


My Lucifer

by LydiaLanguish



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Draco Malfoy, Roommates, Slow Burn, and they were ROOMMATES, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2020-01-24 11:56:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18570979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaLanguish/pseuds/LydiaLanguish
Summary: Draco the Death-eater had protected Harry during the war, Harry owed it to him to protect him now, through all of the aftermath, right?But maybe offering to be his roommate as everyone came back for eighth year was taking it a little far.Eighth Year fic where Draco and Harry are roommates.





	1. Code, We're Roommates Now

Harry walked through the corridor, already in a bad mood and feeling defensive. He'd been staying at Hogwarts during the summer, helping McGonagall rebuild and figure things out, and eighth year started that night, meaning the other students, and his new roommate, were all arriving that day. 

 

His new roommate, Draco bloody Malfoy. 

 

And yeah, Harry was upset to be sharing a room with a guy who almost killed him and had hated him for years, but he'd requested it. 

 

Because at the end of the day, Draco had chances all throughout the war to kill Harry, or let him die, and every time, he… Didn't. 

 

Which was why, when McGonagall had been stressed at where to place the blonde git, Harry had requested to room with him. Harry wasn't an idiot, he knew that things would be tense, with everyone. Draco would find himself the target of a lot of hostility, and though earned, Harry found it hard to believe it was deserved. If Draco could protect him, Harry could protect Draco, too. 

 

But that didn't make him happy about the arrangement. 

 

“They'll be arriving soon,” McGonagall told him as she fell into step beside him. “I wish Albus…” She trailed off with a sigh. She'd done that a lot over the summer. 

 

“I know,” Harry reached out, putting his hand on her shoulder. “He'll always be with us, yeah?” 

 

“Yes, of course,” She smiled at him, putting her hand over his and patting it. “Thank you, Harry, you're a good boy…”

 

Harry smiled back, though still not in the mood to. It didn't matter how he felt, McGonagall needed a little brightness in her life. 

 

\---

 

Draco had managed to find a compartment in the back of the train, a couple third years being the only occupants, so he'd wedged himself in the corner and pulled his hood up so he wasn't as recognizable. All the third years seemed terrified to be riding with him, so they all had scurried off almost as soon as he'd sat down. 

 

Getting on the train itself had been hard enough, it seemed like no one wanted him at Hogwarts. He wasn't entirely sure they were wrong to treat him how they did. He was a Death-eater to them, and always would be. The mark on his arm was a sufficient enough reminder that he'd never be anything more than a killer. 

 

The only one to have said anything to Draco past, ‘go fuck yourself,’ ‘go to Azkaban, Death-eater,’ or ‘you shouldn't be here,’ had been Pansy. She'd offered him a pitying smile and a quiet, “I'm glad you're here,” as he passed her. 

 

Arriving at Hogwarts had carried the same note, and they all went to their tables and watched first years get sorted, but the Slytherin table was too empty. Students from every year had decided not to return for another year, and Draco was beginning to believe he'd made a mistake by returning. 

 

Any first year sorted into Slytherin was followed by a few seconds of silence before a reluctant round of applause, and Draco couldn't help but blame himself for that. After all,  _ he  _ was the Slytherin anyone would point to as the perfect  example of what not to be. 

 

After the sorting ceremony, all the eighth years were asked to stay behind as all the other students went to their dorms. 

 

“Thank you all for your patience,” Headmaster McGonagall called from her stand. “Now I realize this will be very complicated for you all, so I'll try and do this so it's the least difficult for everyone involved. Though all of you are still in your original houses, and essentially retaking your seventh year, due to having a full seventh year class, you will be boarded separately and taking classes separately as well.” She waved her wand, pieces of parchment appearing on the tables in front of all the remaining students. “There's your new class schedules, and your dorm assignments. I'd recommend reviewing that and settling in for the night. And I hardly need remind you all, the war is over. Any continuation of what has passed will not be tolerated. That being said, we're thankful for each of your returns. Good night and welcome back.” 

 

Everyone started getting up as they looked over their papers, so Draco did the same. He stood as he picked up the parchment. 

 

Of bloody course, he'd been put with possibly the one person in the whole school he couldn't bare to live with. 

 

_ Harry freaking Potter. _

 

\---

 

Harry walked back to his room after McGonagall’s welcome speech, upset and a little nervous. To say that he and Malfoy hadn't left things off in a good term would be an understatement. He'd spoken in defense of both Draco and Narcissa Malfoy, and they'd both been let free, but Lucius had been sent to Azkaban, and Harry was certain Draco would blame that on Harry. Not to mention the fact that Draco was a horrible person who'd tried to kill Dumbledore and Harry both. Yes, he'd backed down in the moment every time, but he still had treated Hermione awfully, and was a horrible person. Always had been, and probably always would be. 

 

Ron had been put with Neville, Hermione was put with Fay Dunbar, and had both been relatively fine with their pairing. “It's not fair,” Ron had told Harry after hearing about Malfoy. “You saved the whole bleeding world, you shouldn’t have to stay with that creep.”

 

“It doesn't seem right,” Hermione agreed with a sigh. “I'm not sure what McGonagall was thinking. She should have put Draco with another Slytherin.”

 

Harry hadn't told them that he'd been the one to ask, because he was starting to think it was a bad idea. 

 

So when Malfoy  _ finally  _ came into their room, Harry wasn't inclined to be very friendly. 

 

Draco didn't say anything, just looked around the room before heading into their shared bathroom. 

 

He was in there for twenty minutes or so before coming back out. He had changed into a long-sleeved black shirt and black pants. He gave Harry a weird look before snapping his head away. 

 

Without a word, he set his suitcase next to his bed and sat on the edge of it. 

 

“So we’re roommates,” Harry said, a little tensely.

 

“I hadn't noticed,” Draco raised his eyebrow. 

 

“Don't be a dick, Malfoy,” Harry glared. “I want to make this work, okay?” 

 

“Great start,” Draco rolled his eyes as he pulled his covers up and slid under them.

 

Harry scoffed, though not being able to say much else. “Yeah,” He said thoughtlessly. “Well, good night.” 

 

Draco gave Harry the same weird look before rolling over so he couldn't see him anymore. 

 

“...You're supposed to say it back,” Harry smiled. At least he'd be able to annoy Draco. That might be the only fun he'd have that year. 

 

There was a beat of silence. Satisfied, Harry settled under his own covers. He clicked off the lamp, and then he heard Draco mutter “Good night, Harry.” 

 

...Shit. 


	2. What's Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day back at Hogwarts

Harry had seen Draco Malfoy all disheveled with messy hair, wrinkled clothes and puffy eyes, and that was probably going to be the highlight of his day. 

 

He didn't know why watching the blonde tiredly pull himself out of bed made him feel so smug, but it did. 

 

Harry smirked at Draco as he stretched. “That's a great look for you,” He blurted out. “You look kinda disastrous.” 

 

“I just woke up,” Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry. “You  _ always  _ look like this, at least  _ I _ clean myself up.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah, you primp and preen,” Harry rolled his eyes. “I just don't care to spend the time on all that.”

 

“I've noticed,” Draco said flatly, running his hand through his hair. His sleeve slid down, showing the tip of his dark mark, which he'd immediately noticed and pulled it back up. “Potter, do you even own a hairbrush or a comb?”

 

“No,” Harry shrugged, deciding to pretend he hadn't noticed the slip. “Don't need one. My hair’s always kind of just done what it was going to do. I've always had more important things to worry about than where I'm going to part my hair.”

 

“It's your look,” Draco said as he grabbed his suitcase. 

 

“My look?” Harry asked, frowning when Draco went into the bathroom instead of answering. “You're so pretentious.” 

 

Draco rolled his eyes and pushed the door closed. Really, the guy was already being difficult. 

 

Harry stood up with a sigh, his bones creaking in protest. Ugh, first day of classes. He almost wished he hadn't come back at all, but where else would he go? 

 

He pulled out his button up and pants, quickly changing into his uniform. Or part of it. He didn't care enough to put on his tie and sweater and robes. He just didn't  _ care  _ anymore.

 

He didn't wait for Draco, why would he? He left, feeling at least happy to be able to have breakfast with Hermione and Ron. 

 

As he walked through the corridor, he began to feel this heavy sort of cold isolation. So much had happened, it was almost like he was reliving it all now, especially with everyone coming back. And they all stared at him when he passed, whispering and talking in his wake as if he couldn't hear them. It was supposed to be over, but Harry was still watching his back, flinching at touches and straining to hear what the others were saying. 

 

He reached the great hall, seeing Hermione already sitting at the table. A few others were scattered through the room, but he went straight to her. She was reading a book with a frustrated frown. “Hermione,” He greeted, sitting across from her. 

 

“Good morning, Harry,” She smiled at him, setting her book aside. 

 

“...You alright?” Harry asked quietly, leaning forward to feel like they had a little bit of privacy. 

 

“It's just… Hard, being back here,” Hermione told him, her smile becoming strained. “Continuing on as if nothing’s changed. But it has, hasn't it? I mean, I can't even read this book because I'm scanning through it for information, or-or spells or stories to help us win the war.”

 

“It's like it never ended,” Harry supplied. 

 

“Yeah,” Hermione said, looking comforted at his understanding before a look of pity overtook her face. He hated pity, it was the last thing he needed. “But we're okay now. We'll always have each other.” 

 

Harry nodded. It was miraculous that he, Hermione and Ron had all made it out alright, but they'd all lost something, a part of who they were.  The war had too big a body count, and he had the sinking feeling that he could have done more.

 

Ron and Neville walked in, chattering as they made their way to the Gryffindor table and sat with Harry and Hermione. “Hey,” Ron said. “How was sharing a room with Malfoy?”

 

“Oh yeah, how's that going?” Hermione inquired as well.

 

“He's not pleasant,” Harry crossed his arms. 

 

“You're sharing a room with Malfoy?” Neville asked in concern, eyes widening. 

 

“Yeah, I think he shouldn't have to room with anyone who tried to kill him,” Ron said grumpily. 

 

“Ron, be sensitive,” Hermione scolded quietly. 

 

“Listen, I was the one who suggested it to Headmaster McGonagall,” Harry admitted, and the shocked looks he'd received at that, he supposed he deserved. 

 

“Harry, why?” Hermione asked in disbelief. 

 

“Look, things were… Complicated,” Harry said, crossing his arms. “He could've killed me a lot but didn't.” 

 

“Because he's a coward,” Ron frowned.

 

“Ronald,  _ be sensitive!” _ Hermione hissed. “Harry, I'm not sure this was the smartest thing to do, even without everything that happened, you two have  _ never _ gotten along.” 

 

“Yeah, but he wouldn't have gotten along with  _ anyone _ ,” Harry pointed out. “He protected me, I figured this was a good way to even things out again.” 

 

“You kept him out of Azkaban,” Ron said. “I think you've done enough.”

 

“Yes Harry, you don't owe him anything,” Hermione said gently, reaching across the table to grab his hand. “Be careful with him, alright? He's sly, and he'll use whatever he can to his advantage.” 

 

“I think it's great of you,” Neville spoke up. “Yeah, he's not a great person, but… No one made it out of that war okay.” 

 

“Exactly,” Harry said. “I know he's far from good, I just… Know, that even with good intentions, people can be cruel. And if he deserves it or not, if it can be avoided, it should.”

 

“That's very amiable,” Hermione smiled at his again, squeezing his hand before letting go and picking her book back up. 

 

Harry felt a little better knowing that he hadn't just been crazy, asking to stay with Malfoy. There was something about him that just… Harry felt like he had to figure him out. 

 

\--- 

 

Draco walked into the great hall and immediately felt suffocated. It was like everyone turned to look at him, whispering and glaring. He ducked his head and hurried over to the Slytherin table, taking the seat next to Pansy. 

 

“It'll get better,” She said casually without looking over at him. 

 

“I don't see why it would,” He muttered back. 

 

“It's still fresh, love,” She told him, offering a smile now. “When everyone starts to heal, they'll be more forgiving.” 

 

Draco sighed, figuring she was probably right. He wasn't sure he deserved forgiveness, and as all the others were glaring over at him still, he wasn't entirely convinced he would get it. “Well, who are you rooming with?” 

 

“Tabitha Bainbridge,” Pansy told him. “And you?” 

 

“Just take a guess,” Draco crossed his arms. 

 

“Nott?” Pansy asked. “No wait, Irving Cram?” 

 

“Potter,” Draco said, crossing his arms. 

 

“Oh, you're kidding,” Pansy gaped. “You're not even in the same house! Why stick you with Potter?” 

 

“Don't ask  _ me!”  _ Draco threw his hands up. “ _ I _ didn't ask for this! I'd much prefer rooming with Nott.” 

 

“Mm, so would I,” Pansy agreed, taking a bite of her food. “...Maybe this is a good thing.”

 

“Hardly,” Draco frowned down at his still empty plate. “It's too late, Pans, you know that. After everything, he probably hates me. ...And I can't say I blame him.” 

 

“Draco, things were complicated,” Pansy tried, putting her hand on Draco’s arm. “I wish you'd talk to me about what happened.” 

 

“I can't, Pansy,” Draco pulled away, feeling frustrated and embarrassed. “You know I can't, I wish you'd stop trying!” 

 

“I don't know why,” Pansy narrowed her eyes. “You tell me everything.”

 

“Well, this is different,” Draco huffed. He didn't want Pansy to know everything he'd done, he didn't want her to worry about him, and he didn't want her to know what war was like. She was too young for that. Draco had spent a lot of time and effort trying to protect Pansy from what was going on. And see was smart, she figured a lot out on her own, but she hadn't fought for either side, she'd gone home like she was supposed to. Draco wasn't about to fuck that up just because he was lonely. 

 

“...Sorry,” Pansy said quietly. 

 

“Don't apologize,” Draco shook his head. “Please. It's not your fault.”

 

“It isn't yours, either,” Pansy frowned.

 

“You don't know that,” Draco said quietly. It  _ was  _ his fault. He'd helped Voldemort, he'd been a part of the wrong side of the war. He  _ knew  _ it was wrong, but he just couldn't find a way to change anything. 

 

He was born to be hated.


	3. In The Night

Being roommates with Draco was proving to be a little fun, Harry had to admit.

 

The first week was the worst, but after that, Draco had stopped being intimidating. Seeing him every morning before he'd had time to put himself together made him seem a little more human. Harry had called him adorable one morning on accident, and Draco had got all upset and flustered. And if he was studying, Harry would be extra sure to interrupt and annoy him.

 

But it was a little… Sad. Draco would come in with bruises or scrapes and he'd never tell Harry where they came from. But every time he'd start talking, his hand immediately covered his dark mark through his sleeve. 

 

They both had trouble sleeping, Harry discovered.  It could be three in the morning and suddenly Draco would just sit up and start reading, or sometimes he’d get up and take a shower. Harry always pretended to be asleep, it felt too personal. Sure, a lot was too personal and sharing a room already crossed some of those lines, but he'd give Draco what he could. 

 

But one night, Draco had managed to fall asleep and was tossing and turning, another thing they both did. Harry watched him from across the room, on the verge of falling asleep himself when Draco woke with a start, looking around frantically. He saw Harry and groaned, falling back against his bed and covered his face with his arms. 

 

Harry sighed, pulling his covers back up. He felt like he had to say something, but he was coming up short. “...I have them, too,” He said quietly. 

 

“I know,” Draco said, voice shaky. “I hear you.” 

 

“Well, usually I wake Ron up,” Harry told Draco, though feeling a little embarrassed after finding out that Draco had heard him. “He calms me down.” 

 

“...You can wake me up next time,” Draco offered, which definitely surprised Harry. 

 

“Well, that's not what- That wasn't my point,” Harry said, his embarrassed feeling growing. He hardly needed to go to  _ Malfoy _ for comfort. “I just meant, you know… Maybe I can help.” 

 

“Thanks, but I  _ don't  _ want your help,” Draco said. 

 

“So what, you want me to just ignore you?” Harry crossed his arms. 

 

“ _ Yes _ .” 

 

“You're fine with me waking you up, but  _ I _ can't help  _ you _ ?” 

 

“ _ You  _ saved the whole bloody world,” Draco said as he pushed his blanket off and stood up. “My trouble sleeping should be the last of your concerns.” 

 

“Well it would be, but you sleep ten feet away from me,” Harry argued. 

 

“Eight,” Draco corrected, crossing his arms. 

 

“That's what you're going to correct me on?” Harry frowned. 

 

“Yes, because you're wrong, our room isn't that big,” Draco said.

 

“Well, that just doubly proves my point,” Harry said, standing as well. “If we’re eight feet instead of ten, we’re even closer so it's more my concern than it would be.”

 

“Oh yes, if we had two extra feet of space,” Draco scoffed.

 

“You're the one even bringing it up in the first place!” Harry pointed out. “So obviously you care so much about two feet of space.” 

 

“Correcting your measurement doesn't mean I believe your logic,” Draco said.

 

“Ugh, you're impossible,” Harry narrowed his eyes. “I was only trying to help.”

 

“Again, Potter, I don't need or want your help,” Draco frowned. 

 

“Oh yeah, I forgot who I was dealing with,” Harry huffed.

 

Draco's frown deepened, and his hand instinctively covered his dark mark again. “Well don't,” He warned, turning and storming out of their room. 

 

Suddenly feeling guilty, Harry ran to the doorway. “Hey, Malfoy, it's like three,” He said. 

 

“Always pointing out the obvious,” Draco said, not stopping. 

 

“Where are you going?” Harry chased after him.

 

“Why are you following me?” Draco growled. 

 

“I asked first,” Harry smirked. “By the way, you're not all done up.” 

 

_ “‘All done up?’” _ Draco repeated with a scoff. “As you so helpfully noted earlier, it's only four.” 

 

“I said three,” Harry frowned.

 

“Well, it's  _ actually  _ more around four,” Draco corrected.

 

“You're impossible to please,” Harry rolled his eyes. 

 

“Didn't you grab your glasses?” Draco asked, stopping only then. 

 

“No, I didn't,” Harry crossed his arms. “You didn't bring your comb, either.” 

 

“ _ My comb _ doesn't help me see,” Draco scoffed. 

 

“No, but it helps  _ me _ ,” Harry smirked again. “ _ I _ don't want to look at that.” 

 

“Oh nice, Potter,  _ real  _ nice,” Draco huffed. 

 

“Why don't we go back to our room before someone finds us?” Harry offered. “I don't want to lose any house points.” 

 

“You go back,” Draco said, taking a step away from Harry. “I'm just going for a quick walk.” He turned and began down the hall again, but Harry kept after him. 

 

“What was it about?” He asked quietly. 

 

“...Nothing,” Draco frowned. 

 

“I can-” Harry had started to say that he could help again, but then thought better of it. “I mean, I get it.” 

 

“It's different with you,” Draco shook his head. 

 

“Why say that?” Harry asked, furrowing his eyebrows. 

 

“You don't deserve them,” Draco answered under his breath. 

 

“...Hey,” Harry said, grabbing Draco’s arm and turned him so that they were face to face. “Look, I don't…” He pursed his lips, trying to think of the right way to say whatever he was thinking, especially because he wasn't even sure what he was thinking. He looked Draco over, then carefully pulled up the blonde’s sleeve to show the dark mark. “I don't believe in this right here.” 

 

Draco pulled away, pushing his sleeve back down roughly. “I don't care  _ what  _ you believe about me!” He hissed, turning away. 

 

“Well shut up, I'm trying to tell you something important,” Harry frowned. 

 

Draco hunched his shoulders, but he didn't move. “What?” He demanded. 

 

“I'm trying to say, what happened, it's over,” Harry tried. “You don't have to keep punishing yourself over the past.” 

 

“Harry, I've hurt good people,” Draco reminded shakily, and the use of his first name gave Harry pause. “I can't just forget, I've-I've  _ tried _ .” 

 

“You don't have to forget,” Harry said. “Just… Try and move on, be better.” 

 

“It's too late for me to be anything more than what I am,” Draco shook his head. 

 

“Says who?” Harry frowned. 

 

“Half the bloody world,” Draco said with strained laughter. “Most of the school. My  _ father _ . I'm nothing, Potter,  _ nothing! _ You're wasting your time on me.” He started hurrying away, and at that, Harry let him go. He figured Draco would want the space. 

 

Feeling defeated, he walked back to their room. It was absurd, but now more than ever, he felt like he  _ had  _ to help Draco. 

 

...He'd find a way.


	4. Harry Potter and the Death-eater Malfoy Heir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may be a bit longer than others, I'm unsure. Its my apology for not posting for so long. I'm sorry! Have this present.

Harry rubbed at his tired eyes as he slowly made his way back to his and Draco’s room. It had been a long day- long _week_ . Well, long…  eight- no, _eighteen years._ He was tired, he couldn't sleep, and it was definitely starting to get to him. The only thing that would knock him out were sleeping draughts Madame Pomfrey gave him. But, he hadn't been taking them the past two nights, after using one and waking up to find Draco staring out the window with his eyes swollen from crying, Harry decided he didn't want to leave him on his own to face whatever demons he was so clearly haunted by.

 

But that left Harry tired and rather irritable.

 

"Potter," He heard someone call from down the hall, the sound of heels clicking against the floor from behind him as the owner of the voice, Pansy Parkinson, approached him.

 

"Hey, Parkinson," Harry greeted with a sigh, turning to the girl.

 

"Hey, where's Draco?" She frowned. "He always scurries off after classes, and I figured since you and him are…" She hesitated.

 

"Roommates," Harry supplied, motioning for her to continue.

 

"Yeah, roommates," Pansy accepted with a tone that was just a little to placating for Harry’s liking. "I figured you might know where he runs off to all the time."

 

"Our room," Harry told her.

 

"That's-that's it?" Pansy frowned. "Doesn't he ever go to the library, or the lake, or just out around the grounds? He's just- _always_ in your room?"

 

"Well, every time I'm there, he's there," Harry shrugged. "He doesn't really… Tell me things."

 

"Yeah, join the club," Pansy sighed. "...Okay Potter, I know I shouldn't ask, and you may not know the answer, but does he sleep okay? I mean, he looks dead on his feet."

 

"...He doesn't really sleep _a lot_ ," Harry grimaced. "But he _does sleep._ It's never very restful, though."

 

"Nightmares?" Pansy inquired in a manner that told Harry she already knew the answer. He nodded regardless. "That bitch."

 

Harry felt his eyes widen, startled at Pansy's casual use of the harsh term. _"What?"_ He demanded, staring at her.

 

"He doesn't sleep, he doesn't eat, and if he doesn't change that soon, I'm sending him to Madame Pomfrey," Pansy continued as if she didn't notice Harry’s surprise. "I don't care if he hates doctors, he hates everything."

 

"He doesn't eat?" Harry frowned. He wasn't necessarily the best person to lecture Draco about making sure he gets enough sleep, but at least Harry ate.

 

"He does, but not nearly enough," Pansy narrowed her eyes at Harry. "Didn't you notice him getting thinner?"

 

"Well, I did, but…" Harry winced, realizing how that made it sound like he was hyper aware of Draco. "I figured he was, you know, trying to stay thin or something."

 

Pansy stared at Harry like he'd dribbled down his shirt, shaking her head. "Boys," She scoffed. "Well, next time he has a nightmare, just call me and I'll come and deal with him."

 

"I can handle it," Harry frowned. He knew Pansy was looking out for Draco, but it still made him mad. Why was she suddenly getting involved again with Draco? Harry knew they had meals together, and whatever, it didn't bother him that Draco spent so much time with his ex. They might not even be exes anymore, they might have started dating again, it didn't matter to Harry any, but he'd been Draco's roommate long enough now to know how to help him calm down.

 

He knew a lot about Draco, things that he felt maybe Draco hadn't intended Harry to find out, but he clung to any knowledge he could grasp hold of. The worst nightmares Draco had were of You-Know-Who, that wasn't hard to guess. But what had given Harry pause was the time Draco had woke Harry up just so he could hear his voice. And when Harry pushed, all he divulged was that, 'The memory of that-that _animal_ , Fen- ...It's too much.' And as soon as he had calmed down enough to be alone, had gone into their bathroom and took an hour and a half long shower.

 

Fenrir Greyback, Harry realized. He'd never considered the fact that when Draco had gone home, he went to a house filled with Death-eaters. Murderers, torturous sadists, and monsters like Fenrir.

 

And sometimes Harry and Draco would just sit up and talk for hours. If Harry got him talking long enough, Draco would start to talk about himself. Not nightmares or monsters, but little, insignificant things that made Harry fee like the boy might be okay one day. Things like his least favorite classes, or how blue used to be his favorite color before he settled on green, things that made Draco seem so… Human.

 

And Harry knew in the back of his head, he was only starting to see glimpses of someone Pansy knew like the back or her hand, so he didn't know why he felt so defensive at her offering to help Draco, but he was. "I probably shouldn't even leave him just to get you. He's never asked for you, so." He shrugged.

 

"Oh yes, you've helped him so much," Pansy crossed her arms. "That's why he looks like he's about to drop anytime."

 

"And what do you do, exactly?" Harry asked with narrowed eyes.

 

Pansy opened her mouth to respond, but blinked, letting out a strained laugh. "Don't be jealous, Potter, I'm seeing Theodore Nott," She smirked.

 

"I'm _not_ jealous!" Harry corrected, his cheeks heating up. That was a ridiculous accusation. ...Right?

 

"Mm, sure," Pansy placated with a knowing grin. "I've heard it all before. 'No, I'm not jealous, I don't even like him, you're being stupid, Pansy, butt out.' Right?"

 

"Yeah," Harry huffed. "I'm not, I don't, you are, and you should."

 

"Again, _boys,_ " Pansy scoffed, shaking her head. "Deny it all you like, Potter, but we've all fallen for the charms of our 'Slytherin prince.'"

 

"You don't know anything about me," Harry muttered.

 

"Ugh, the days I've spent wishing that were true," Pansy sighed dramatically. _"'Saint Potter.'"_

 

"What are you playing at?" Harry asked accusingly. "Trying to make sure no one else is interested in your ex? Well you can put a mark through my box, 'cause I'm not."

 

"I'm not _playing_ at anything," Pansy held up her hands. "I'm just saying, you're acting at least a _little-_ "

 

"Pansy," Theodore Nott interrupted, calling from the end of the hall. "Are you coming to Daphne's-" He snapped his mouth shut, glancing at Harry. "Thing?"

 

"Her party, yes," Pansy rolled her eyes. "See ya, Potter. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me." She winked at him and patted his cheek before walking over to where Nott was.

 

"I don't have any secrets!" Harry called after her, but she and Nott just walked out without looking back at him.

 

He changed directions, abandoning his plan of sitting in his room with Draco in whatever tense silence they'd find this time. There were good days and bad days, and Harry never knew what caused the change.

 

Instead he found his way to the library where he knew Ron and Hermione were.

 

Hermione saw him first, smiling up at him. "Harry," She smiled. "I'm glad to-"

 

He sat abruptly, accidentally cutting Hermione off. Now Ron looked up in confusion.

 

"Oi, what happened?" Ron asked, immediately worried. "Was it Malfoy?"

 

"No," Harry grumbled, crossing his arms and putting them on the table. "He's not that bad, Ron."

 

Hermione hummed, looking down at her book.

 

"Yeah, I've been watching out for him," Ron told Harry, leaning forward and lowering his voice. "Just in case he'd get back to his old tricks, and I can never spot that ferret. Where does he sneak off to?"

 

"He doesn't sneak off anywhere," Harry frowned. "Most days he just stays in our room."

 

"...One day in the hall, he was walking by," Hermione started reluctantly. "And… He apologized. He saw me walk by and he started to follow me, so I turned around to tell him to leave me alone, but before I could, he promised to leave but that he needed me to know that he was sorry."

 

"Did he say what for?" Ron frowned.

 

"Well, I asked," Hermione sighed. "He looked really guilty and said he was really sorry about all the things he'd said and done."

 

"What'd you say?" Harry leaned forward, a glimmer of hope growing in his chest. He _knew_ there had to be more to Draco than what his father was.

 

"I didn't have time to say anything," Hermione said with a slight whine, like she'd regretted it. "Because he told me he knew that didn't make up for everything, and I had every right to never forgive him, and then he just left!"

 

"And this is Malfoy?" Ron clarified with big eyes. "This wasn't someone else with a Polyjuice?"

 

"Well, I asked some of the other muggle-borns," Hermione shook her head. "Finch-Fletchley said Draco had apologized to him, too. It's crazy!"

 

"Good for him," Ron said, his expression telling Harry that he wasn't quite sure what to think. "Or, good for us?"

 

"I don't know what to make of it," Hermione said. "I think…" She hesitated before continuing reluctantly. "We should give him a second chance, but we shouldn't trust him."

 

"No, obviously not," Ron agreed at once. "But, really? I mean, I will if you're sure you're okay with it, Hermione, I'm just not sure he's earned a second chance."

 

"No, but that's when second chances are needed the most," Hermione decided. "He could really be changed, and if he is, he's going to need people to help him along the way."

 

"Then that's agreed," Ron nodded. "...Maybe we should try and get him to come hang out with us tomorrow after classes."

 

"Yeah," Harry perked up. "I'll go ask him." He stood up, knowing he wouldn't be missed too badly as his friends turned back to their books.

 

Maybe Draco hanging around Ron and Hermione would really help him, maybe Draco would get better because of it.

 

...But, maybe Draco would be mad, and he'd get caught in superficial things like class and blood status, and he wouldn't want to be around Ron and Hermione, and Harry and him would fight over it, and they'd be right back to where they started.

 

If that were the case, why did Draco apologize to Hermione, and _Justin Finch-Fletchley_ ? It was proof that Harry wasn't going insane, Draco _had_ really changed, and Harry got to see the new person he was becoming, not _Pansy Parkinson._ If anything, _she_ was jealous because Draco was always in their room talking to Harry. Not that there was anything for her to be jealous over. He and Draco weren't… Romantic. He'd never even really thought about it. Sure, Draco was smart, and kinda funny sometimes, and he was a great Quidditch player, and he had dark, stormy grey eyes, and when Harry managed to make him laugh, it was one of his favorite sounds.

 

But… Ugh, here he was _daydreaming_ about Draco. What the hell was even happening? It was _Draco_.

 

He opened the door to their room, fully expecting Draco to be sitting on his bed studying, but instead was caught off guard at the sight of Draco, passed out in the chair with his shirt pulled mostly off, still hanging from his right arm. His shoes were kicked off and his hair was slightly trussed. It looked as if he'd fallen asleep halfway through the process of changing out of his school uniform. It was… Adorable. Harry found himself enchanted by the sight. He didn't look nervous or reluctant like he usually did during the night, he just looked peaceful, comfortable. His chest was covered in scars, Harry noticed. It took a lot of self-control to not reach out and trace the lines with his finger.

 

He did, however, indulge in fixing Draco’s hair for him. He smoothed it down, but even that was enough to stir Draco.

 

"Harry," He breathed, barely audible, but he'd said it all the same.

 

Harry pulled his hand away, holding his breath for a good moment until he decided he was safe and Draco wasn't waking up.

 

He'd said _Harry._

 

Harry couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. Stupid blonde git was really getting under Harry’s skin.

 

\--

 

Draco stirred, pulling the blanket closer. It was cold, he was tired, and now his neck was hurting like crazy. He stretched out, realizing he'd fallen asleep in the chair. It was bound to happen eventually, he knew, the longer he went without sleeping, there was a higher chance of him dropping anywhere. He supposed he was lucky to have crashed in his own room.

 

Then he realized he had a blanket that he'd absolutely not had when he fell asleep.

 

Feeling just a little panicked, he sat up quickly, looking around the room. Harry was already awake and dressed, looking over at Draco. "Morning," He smiled.

 

"...Good morning," He replied, blinking. "What time is it?"

 

"Almost time for breakfast," Harry shrugged.

 

"You should have woke me up," Draco frowned, tossing the blanket- _Harry's blanket_ , his mind unhelpfully supplied - aside and standing up.

 

"Yeah, as if," Harry rolled his eyes, but he was still grinning. "Like I was going to interrupt you _actually_ sleeping for once?"

 

"If I'm going to be late for breakfast, yes," Draco argued as he pulled out a clean uniform from the closet.

 

"Oh, whatever," Harry dismissed. "You're not going to miss breakfast, you just won't look all perfect like you usually do."

 

"Watch me," Draco said as he slid his arms into the clean shirt he'd grabbed before noticing that Harry had hung his robes up for him. ...Ugh.

 

"Well, you look fine," Harry rolled his eyes. "I don't know who you're trying to impress."

 

"I'm not trying to impress anyone," Draco corrected. "I'm just not supposed to be out unless I look proper."

 

"That's just something adults say," Harry said. "That you have to look all perfect and normal before you leave, but take it from me, it really doesn't matter what you look like."

 

Yeah, but Harry looked adorable no matter _what_ he did. "You don't understand," Draco dismissed as he finished changing into his clean uniform. "I have something of an image to maintain."

 

"So it's not because you're trying to get back with Pansy?" Harry asked, frowning a little.

 

"I am not having this conversation with you," Draco stared, feeling a little disbelieving. Harry Potter was asking Draco who he was trying to impress and asking about _Pansy Parkinson._ "What, jealous?" He stupidly blurted out.

 

"Why does everyone assume I'm jealous?" Harry’s frown deepened, but Merlin, that meant someone else thought it, too. _And Harry had been talking about him._

 

"I'm only joking, Potter," Draco said, trying not to let the situation affect him. "After all, you're probably seeing some Gryffindor girl, aren't you? Last I was aware, you and Weasley were seeing each other."

 

"Ginny, yeah," Harry nodded. "But we aren't seeing each other anymore. Haven't been for a while. ...Why, _jealous?_ " Harry asked with a proud grin, like he'd won something, and Draco had to retreat back to the closet pretending to look for something, because it certainly _felt_ like Harry had won.

 

"Nothing to be jealous of, Potter," Draco said. "I couldn't be less concerned with the people you associate with."

 

"Oh, speaking of," Harry snapped his fingers as if suddenly remembering something. "Do you wanna hang out after classes? Just us, Ron and Hermione."

 

"Are they coming here?" Draco asked, already not liking the idea.

 

"No, we'd be all hanging out maybe at the lake, or in the library," Harry tried. "It'd be fun, and… It'll be good for you. All you ever do is sit in here and study. You can… Sit _outside_ and study. And we'll sit under a tree so you don't get a sunburn."

 

"Fine," Draco gave in. How was he _actually_ supposed to protest when Harry was trying to spend time with him, and being so nice and considerate about the whole thing? He could handle Granger and Weasley for an afternoon, because it kinda felt… Whatever. "Now I'm going down to breakfast."

 

"Oh wait," Harry jumped up and caught Draco’s arm. "Um… Just," He hesitated, pulling his hand away. Stupid, Draco immediately missed the contact.

 

"What is it, Potter?" Draco made sure to sound bored.

 

"Make sure you eat enough," Harry requested, sounding unsure, but then changed moods and grinned up at Draco. "For me?"

 

"I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself," Draco rolled his eyes, walking out of their room, but he knew he was blushing like a child. Harry's stupid grin had been haunting him for years, but when he was directing it _at Draco,_ asking him to make sure he ate enough, with a cute little, 'for me?' Draco could just die.

 

Honestly, what was fate thinking, making Draco and Harry share a room? This had to be a punishment, because the only thing to come of the situation was Draco was inarguably convinced of two things; he was in love with Harry Potter and Harry could never love him back.  

 

But Draco had started to indulge himself in small things. When Harry said goodnight or good morning, he said it back.  When Harry tried to distract Draco from his book, he'd set it down and he'd flirt back. Because that's what it was, wasn't it? Flirting?

 

It wasn't all flowery, sometimes it was hard. Sometimes neither one of them would say anything, and things would be tense again. Draco was never exactly sure what caused the change, but he figured it was Harry remembering who Draco was. No matter what anyone said, Draco's past would always be right behind him, closing in on him like darkness about to swallow him.

 

The fantasy was broken every time they left their room, because they could never be Harry and Draco, they would only ever be Harry Potter and the Death-eater Malfoy heir.

 

But on their good days, Draco let himself pretend whatever they had was very much real, just to see what it might taste like. And things like Harry taking care of him after he passed out like he had, and asking him to eat enough, and inviting him out, made the fantasy feel more real.

 

It was dangerous.

 

But he'd spent years obsessed with the boy he again found himself at the mercy of, what was the harm in a fantasy?

 

He sat by Pansy as soon as he'd reached the great hall.

 

"You look like you just woke up," She smiled.

 

"Oh, thanks, Pans," Draco glared over at her.

 

"No, it's a good thing," Pansy said, putting her hand on Draco’s shoulder. "And after classes, you're coming to the library with me and Theo, okay? No more hiding out in your room."

 

"Oh, I can't today," Draco said, on the fence between feeling excited and nervous about telling Pansy. "I have plans."

 

"With who?" Pansy narrowed her eyes.

 

"Potter," Draco shrugged, trying to act casual about the whole thing.

 

"Dra- no, Draco, don't do this to yourself!" Pansy frowned, her hand tightening around his arm.

 

"I'm not doing anything to myself," Draco rolled his eyes. "Granger and Weasley are going to be there, it's not a date or anything, just… We’re hanging out."

 

"Okay, I'm only saying this because I love you," Pansy said lowly. "You know how this ends. You're too much of a romantic to get too close to Potter. You can't be together and you know it, so-"

 

"Why? Why is it this inarguable truth?" Draco argued, almost convincing himself.

 

"You _know_ why," Pansy sighed.

 

"But the war's over," Draco tried. "You-Know-Who’s gone."

 

"You're still a Malfoy," Pansy reminded.

 

"That doesn’t _mean_ anything," Draco huffed.

 

"It _shouldn't,_ but it does," Pansy said gently. "I think you know that already, though. You know how this ends, okay? You get hurt and he doesn't care."

 

Yeah, he knew it mattered. He knew that he was bad for Harry, but when Harry walked in and smiled over at Draco, and immediately he remembered how he'd promised to eat. He may get hurt, but after this morning, he knew Harry would care.

 

"You're right," Draco conceded before starting to put food on his plate. Some pieces of fruit, scrambled eggs, and a piece of toast.

 

"Hungry?" Pansy smiled again.

 

"Just a little," Draco shrugged, looking over at the Gryffindor table to where Harry was as he took his first bite.

 

Harry would care.


	5. I Don't Need Friends, They Disappoint Me

Draco had gone from willing, to nervous, cautious, back to nervous, and then jumped to scared, all to talk himself down into dread, about going to the lake with Potter and the others. Before they were halfway through their classes, Draco had convinced himself to cancel, or even just ditch. He'd just tell Harry later he'd forgotten- No, he'd tell  _ Potter  _ that he'd decided against going because  _ he didn't need any friends. _

 

Now he was anxious about what he was going to do, or if Potter would be mad and what he'd think about Draco and if he'd say anything. 

 

Draco missed the days where he was never worried or anxious. The days where he could walk through the halls without staring into the faces of people from families he'd helped destroy. When he could go through the school and not be told to go fuck himself, or how he deserved to go to Azkaban, how he was a Death-eater and a killer. But, he would always remind himself, he deserved every spat insult. He deserved every short-tempered attack driven by hurt anger and grief. 

 

The days where life had seemed bright and hopeful were gone. The only promise his future had now was dark and clouded by the mark of Voldemort. He'd never get past his father, Voldemort, his aunt,  _ Fenrir Greyback.  _

 

He shook the thought away. He had enough to deal with in the moment. There were assignments he was behind in now that he'd fallen asleep immediately after classes the previous day and had only woken up before breakfast. 

 

Maybe that's the excuse he'd give, that he just had too much to do. 

 

Pansy wasn't helping either. Between classes she'd try and talk him out of going, even though Draco kept telling her that he was already intending to ditch. By the time classes were over, Draco was set against going and had a list of things to tell Potter if he asked. 

 

"Hey," the saint himself spoke as he chased after Draco. "I talked to Ron and Hermione, we're all going to hang out by the lake."

 

"Actually Potter, I'm not going," Draco sighed as he continued walking.

 

"What? Why not?" Harry frowned as he fell into step with Draco. "You were fine with it this morning, are you okay?" 

 

"Fine, Potter, I've just got to catch up with my schooling, since you let me sleep through the entire afternoon yesterday."

 

"So it's my fault?" Harry scoffed. 

 

"I didn't  _ say  _ it was your fault," Draco said. "But regardless, I do have things to catch up on."

 

"Just bring your work to the lake," Harry tried. "I told you we could study."

 

"I think better when you're not trying to distract me," said Draco.

 

"Like you actually mind it," Harry grinned now. "If you were honestly that bothered by my interrupting, you'd have kicked me out or something by now."

 

"Well, consider this me kicking you out."

 

"Come on Malfoy, I know that's not the reason," Harry rolled his eyes. "Just tell me what's going on."

 

"It's like I said, Potter, I simply have too much work," Draco said. 

 

"We attend the same classes," Harry frowned. "We have the same workload, Hermione can help you."

 

Draco scoffed, shaking his head. He was not going to ask Granger to help. How  _ dare  _ he, after everything that happened? Potter didn't understand, Draco needed his work, it kept him busy enough to get through the day. 

 

"So it's about them, then," Harry glared. "You really  _ are  _ still caught up in stuff like that."

 

"Like what?" Draco frowned. 

 

"Stuff like blood status and class," Harry said. "But it's not-"

 

"It's not about status and class, Potter!" Draco hissed. "You can't tell me Weasley and Granger  _ actually  _ want me there, after everything I've done! You're unfortunate enough to share a room with me, but you  _ don't  _ have to try and force anything outside of that."

 

"It was Ron's idea, idiot," Harry huffed. "I'm not forcing anything- or at least, I hadn't  _ thought  _ I was. I thought we were… Y’know, friends."

 

"Listen, you're not thinking this through," Draco sighed. "I'm a Malfoy, I was a Death-eater, all I  _ can  _ do is make things worse for you, you're  _ Harry Potter _ , you don't need me dragging you down."

 

"I never  _ asked  _ to be Harry Potter!" He snapped. "You didn't ask to be Draco Malfoy! So why don't we just grow up and move on!"

 

"You're an idiot," Draco dismissed. "I can't just stop being a Malfoy."

 

"Says who?" Potter pushed.

 

"Again, Potter, half the bloody world is against me, and  _ I'm _ against the half that isn't!"

 

Harry grinned again, seeming excited. "Ha! You just admitted that you've changed!"

 

"Wh- no I didn't," Draco blinked. "Stop reading into things, I'm not going to the lake with you, that's that." 

 

"Don't be stupid, Ron and Hermione want to hang out with you." 

 

"They don't, Potter, that's evident," Draco rolled his eyes. "You're just doing your hero thing."

 

"No I'm not, I don't do that," Harry frowned. "Come on, we're already late." 

 

“I’m  _ not  _ going,” Draco said stubbornly. 

 

“Now you’re just doing this to fight,” Harry accused. “You can’t spend forever locked up in that room, it’s not good for you.”   
  


“It’s better than being out,” Draco huffed. Honestly, he  _ hated _ just hiding in his room, he hated isolating himself, he hated cold nights alone, he hated the thought that there was nothing waiting on the other side. But more than that, he hated being afraid to leave in fear of confronting the past or an old classmate who he’d hurt too deeply to ever heal or forgive. He hated knowing that whatever friendships he’d formed or was forming would forever be weighted down by the fact that Draco would always be a reflection of the wrong side of the war. He hated the thought that whoever warms his bed would know what he was, would always see him at his worst, and really,  _ who could love that? _ He hated knowing that whatever hope he could muster would be ripped away every time by his harsh reality. 

  
“Don’t do that,” Harry said seriously, then grabbed Draco’s arm - the one with the mark - and Draco tried to hide his panic. He wasn’t going to show the mark again, right? Draco tried to pull his arm away in fear of worse conversation, but Harry started pulling him along the hall. 

 

“And what, pray tell, am I doing?” Draco argued, finally yanking himself away from Harry, who turned back to face him.

 

“You’re pitying yourself and acting like you’re alone,” Harry frowned, reaching for his arm again, but Draco stepped further away.

 

“So? Who does it hurt if I do?” Draco huffed before realizing how pathetic he sounded.    
  
“Draco, you- you complete  _ idiot _ ,” Harry gritted his teeth. “Just- shut up and come on.” 

 

“No,” Draco defied, fighting against Harry, who was now trying to force him down the corridor. 

 

Draco ended up at the lake, but by the time he and Harry got there, they were both disheveled and angry. Draco, for being dragged down to the lake, and Harry for having to drag him there.

 

Granger and Wealsey stared at the tense pair before Hermione let out a giggle, that turned into a laugh, soon Weasley joined her.

 

“Glad we’re so funny,” Harry muttered, cheeks flushed from the struggle. Or, at least, Draco assumed it was from the struggle.

 

“No, it’s just-” Hermione broke off with another laugh. “You two always fight. Even as friends, you-” She laughed, shaking her head.

 

“It’s fine, Malfoy,” Ron tried to translate. “We-we’re not- It’s just, I don’t know what else we expected.”   
  
“He was trying to ditch,” Harry defended, a smile tugging at his own lips. 

 

“I have  _ homework _ ,” Draco huffed, standing up to make an escape, but when Harry wrapped his hand around Draco’s wrist, not forcibly but just as a gesture, and looked at him seriously, Draco hesitated.

  
“Wait, don’t be mad,” Harry frowned, seeming concerned, and then frustrated. “I won’t laugh at you anymore, just- Give it a chance.”   
  
Draco felt his own cheeks reddening, and hoped it was soon enough after the struggle that he could blame it all on that. He shouldn’t stay, but…

 

Harry’s  _ eyes. _

 

“Fine,” He huffed, plopping back down like he was placating Harry.

 

Ron chuckled again, but in his defense, tried to stifle it. There was something ironic about it, reminding Draco of first year. But this time, it wasn’t mean spirited, simply amused. 

 

“Um… So classes,” Harry started awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. It was frustratingly adorable, and Draco was torn between trying to ease his obvious discomfort, and to scold him for his too charming behaviour. 

 

“That’s what you lead with?” He remarked instead. The amount of times he’d tried to dismiss Potter by insulting him instead of just  _ dealing with things _ was so numerous that it was just a habit at this point.   
  
“Well, people say you make friends by talking about common interests,” Harry defended. “And well, I don’t know, we all go to classes.”   
  
“You’re already friends with- them,” Draco commented, glad he caught himself before counting himself as Potter’s friend. 

  
“But- I want  _ all _ of us to be friends,” Harry said, looking distinctly embarrassed now, and shook his head, looking to Granger. 

 

“We all do,” She said gently, though still seeming amused. “So Draco, what’s your favorite class?”

 

“Um, I don’t know,” Draco frowned down at his hands. He knew he shouldn’t be so defensive, but… He was waiting for it to start. The inevitable questions.  _ Had he really changed? Had he meant it all? Why had Harry even saved his life? Why had Harry saved him from Azkaban? _ He didn’t know any of it anymore. “Astronomy.”   
  
“Really?” Granger blinked like she hadn’t been expecting it at all. Well, she was the one who asked.   
  
“I’d have thought you’d say ‘Dark Arts’ or something,” Weasley shrugged.   
  
“Ron,” Granger chided, then turned back to Draco. “Not Potions?”

 

“I don’t know, I don’t talk about it,” Draco crossed his arms. He wished he could just act normal, but he hadn’t really been good at conversation since everything happened. “I just do the work.”   
  
“Okay fine, what’s your  _ least _ favorite class?” Weasley pushed.    
  
“I don’t know, what’s yours?” Draco’s frown deepened. Why were they all staring at him like that? Why couldn’t  _ they  _ just have normal conversation? Well, maybe they felt as uneasy as he did. After all, he’d done some awful things at all of their expenses before, he wouldn’t blame them if they just couldn’t trust him.

 

“All of them,” Weasley said with a chuckle, and then he and Potter high fived. Granger rolled her eyes. 

 

“Well, what sort of things do you like to eat?” Granger tried again. Draco began to tell her that he liked anything and that he wasn’t picky, but Harry started before he could answer.

 

“He  _ doesn’t  _ eat anything, look at him,” Harry told them, holding up Draco’s skinny wrist, which he immediately pulled away.

  
“Harry,” Granger groaned, shaking her head. “Sorry Draco, I don’t think any of us are particularly good at this.”    
  
“Yeah, sorry man,” Ron said, biting his bottom lip. “Harry’s right though, you’re scrawny. If my-”   
  
“R- ugh, I’m so sorry, Draco,” Hermione groaned, covering her face.    
  


“ _ What _ ? I was just going to say, if my mum saw him, she’d stuff a whole cake down his throat.”   
  
Harry laughed at that, thought it was tense and a little forced. “She might do,” He commented. 

 

“Well, do you do anything for fun, Draco?” Hermione pushed. Something could be said about her Slytherin-like determination. It almost rivalled Potter’s. 

 

Draco thought for a minute. Before the war, he’d done a lot. He’d just talk about that. “I don’t know, I play piano,” He said quietly. This was still horribly uncomfortable. “Or um, read, draw, and fly, of course.”   
  
“We should fly together sometime!” Harry said instantly, an excited gleam in his eye. “Y’know, a bit of one-on-one, just us and the snitch!”   
  
Draco swallowed, hoping his blush was all in his head and not on his cheeks.  _ It meant nothing _ , he reminded himself. “Um, yeah,” He said, looking away, because when Harry was staring at him like that, genuinely happy and excited, Draco couldn’t even think properly.    
  


Ron stared, a grin spreading across his face. “Way to leave me out, Harry,” he commented, and now Draco was  _ sure _ he was blushing. 

 

“Oh, I… I didn’t mean-” Harry blinked. “You can come, of course you can. We can all three go for the snitch or something.”

 

_ Of course Weasley could go. _

 

Draco knew it hadn’t been a date, but he still hoped. Stupid. “Maybe, I’m usually really busy,” He muttered.    
  
“We can watch together, Draco,” Hermione offered. “And work as we do.”   
  


That was almost worse. And the grin Weasley was giving him was certainly making Draco squirm. He couldn’t know…  _ Right? _

 

“No, you have to fly,” Potter said, sounding disappointed. “You said you liked flying, and I happen to know for a fact that your marks are perfect.”   
  
“No they aren’t,” Draco blinked. “And-  _ NEWTS, _ Potter, NEWTS.” 

 

“Oh, the NEWTS are so important,” Hermione agreed, both Potter and Weasley groaning. 

  
“Fine, but sometime,” Harry tried, then stared seriously at Draco with those  _ green eyes. _ “Promise?”   
  
“Harry, he-” Granger started, but Weasley shushed her, which she started a quiet argument with him about.    
  


“ _ Promise _ ?” Harry asked again, and Draco swore he was doing it on purpose. 

  
“...Promise,” Draco grumbled, looking down at his hands.

 

“Good,” Harry said, giving Draco a relieved smile.    
  


By the time Draco was finally released from the agonizing torture, (though it did get better,) it was already getting dark and Granger and Weasley decided they needed to get back so they didn’t keep their roommates up.    
  


On the way back to their dorm, Harry cleared his throat. “Thanks,” He said quietly. “For um, coming. I know it was weird for all of us, I just…”    
  
Draco stared, caught up in walking alone in the moonlit corridor with Harry. He just wanted to reach out and hold Harry’s hand, or to kiss his cheek, touch his unruly hair, and smooth out those worry lines on his forehead. “...Yeah?” He said, finally forcing his gaze away. 

 

“I don’t know, for some reason, I just wanted you all to get along,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck again. “I know it was tense, but um, I think they like you.”   
  
“Charity,” Draco muttered under his breath.

  
“Stop,” Harry warned, then shook his head and sighed. “Why can’t you just… Believe I  _ actually _ want to be your friend?”

 

“Want it or not, we  _ shouldn’t _ be friends,” Draco said, having known it was coming. Still didn’t make it easier to say.   
  
“What, more, ‘you’re Harry Potter, I’m Draco Malfoy’ bullshit?” Harry frowned.    
  
“Yes,” Draco sighed. “Harry, we’re not… The same.”    
  
“...I think we are,” Harry said, biting his lower lip. “I think… You didn’t pick it. Your name, your part in things, your whole… You should’ve let me die, and you didn’t, because you didn’t want to. I know that it’s not easy to-to talk about, or think about, but we’re… We’re the same, you and me.” He stopped, holding his hand out. “Let’s just start from here, okay?” He gave Draco a nervous smile, and when Draco didn’t immediately respond, Harry ran his free hand through his hair with a slightly hurt chuckle.

 

That wasn’t fair. The last thing Draco wanted was to hurt Harry, that’s why he was even  _ saying  _ they shouldn’t be friends. But… Rejecting him would hurt him, being his friend would hurt him. Draco was again left with two terrible choices, trying to figure out which would be the lesser of two evils. “Fine,” Draco hesitantly shook Potter’s hand. He couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped his lips.

 

“What?” Harry frowned down at Draco, but didn’t move his gaze away. Draco immediately recognized it as the same look Potter always gave him when he thought Draco was about to mock him.   
  


“Nothing,” Draco dismissed, but since the hurt look on Harry’s face didn’t budge, he decided to sacrifice some pride. “It’s just… In first year, when you refused to shake my hand,” He hesitated when Potter snorted in disbelief. “I always wanted the chance to do it to you,” He finished, feeling embarrassed now himself. 

 

“...But you shook my hand,” Harry pointed out, and looked down at their still clasped hands. 

 

Draco, who hadn’t realized he hadn’t let go, suddenly pulled away. “I wanted to, now,” He admitted. Harry grinned.

  
“So we’re friends then,” He grabbed Draco’s hand again.    
  
“Yes, friends,” Draco said, holding his breath. He was scared to breathe, he felt like his heart was beating so hard that Harry would be able to feel it through the little connection. His eyes flickered down to Potter’s lips and then back up to his eyes. Potter was smiling at him almost fondly. 

  
Suddenly, Draco was being pulled along the corridor by his hand, and if he gave Harry’s a squeeze, well, so what? Harry didn’t seem hurt anymore, good. That was…  _ The only reason _ he hadn’t pulled his hand away.

 

Harry started chattering away about all the restoration they’d done in the castle, Draco tried to block out the memories of the Death-eaters invading Hogwarts or the battle- he shivered. Luckily Potter hadn’t noticed.

  
By the time they reached their room, it seemed almost casual for Harry to be holding Draco’s hand. Maybe it was, Draco wouldn’t know. And the nightly, “Good night, Malfoy,” just made Draco cemented in his love. 

 

Merlin sake, he was fucked


	6. This is Why We Fight

Draco was walking back to his dorm from the library, always his least favorite task. In the library, he’d found enough places to hide, and in his room, no one bothered him, but the journey from point A to B was always… Rough, to say the least. 

  
As he was walking, his legs were suddenly kicked from underneath him, landing him on the floor with an ‘oof.’

 

“Hey Malfoy,” a Gryffindor seventh year sneered down at him. When he started to try and stand up, someone else grabbed him by the waist and threw him back down. This time, the books he’d been carrying dropped. He looked around and felt a numb complacency hit him as he realized he was surrounded by a group of five Gryffindors and two Ravenclaws. One of them was the Beater on the Quidditch team. Ginevra Weasley was among them, but she made a face at him and walked away, muttering about Azkaban, as most usually did.

  
He didn’t make another move, even as the Gryffindor who had tripped him kicked his books and then spat on Draco.

 

The Ravenclaw Beater pulled Draco up by the collar, blowing hot air in his face. “You shouldn’t have come back,” She said angrily.

  
“They should have never let him back, anyway,” Said a Gryffindor, pushing Draco’s head down. “He almost cost us everything.”    
  
“He doesn’t even fight back,” Said the first Gryffindor in disgust, grabbing a handful of his hair and twisting it.

 

Draco tried not to show that he was in pain, but he couldn’t help the groan. The group laughed. 

 

“Can’t you speak, Malfoy?” The second Ravenclaw grinned. “Or did the Ministry take your tongue, too?”

 

“Can’t even be trusted with that, can you?” Said the Gryffindor holding him up, dragging him over to the wall and slamming him into it.    
  
“What are you gonna do?” The Beater demanded, punching Draco in the stomach. He gasped, swallowing down the vomit that had sent up his throat. “Your fellow Death-eaters aren’t ruling the school now, all your friends and family are in Azkaban, you have nothing.”   
  
“You should be there with them,” A Gryffindor snarled, tears starting to well up in her angry eyes. “Too much of a coward to even do that, huh?” She stepped forward, slapping him hard across the face. 

 

One of them grabbed his hair again and slammed his head against the wall, not hard enough to knock him out, but hard enough to give him an immediate headache. Then, the beating started. He couldn’t keep himself up anymore as the onslaught of fists and blows bombarded him. 

 

He threw his arms over his head to at least protect that, but one of them grabbed his arm and pushed his sleeve up. “Where is it, Malfoy?!” He hissed, grabbing Draco’s other arm and doing the same thing. “Ugh, it’s  _ sick!” _ He huffed, and Draco bit back a scream as someone stepped on the mark, grounding his arm into the floor. 

  
“He’s disgusting,” One voice said, a kick landing on his gut. Draco curled in on himself, hoping they’d tire of him and leave.    
  
“Oh, do you not like it?” Cooed one of them. “Little Malfoy can’t even take his own medicine.”    
  
“It’s, ‘doesn’t like the taste of his own medicine.'”

  
“Oh, how am I supposed to know that?”

 

“Can you two stop?” 

 

Draco felt his robe being pulled off of him, and only then did he start to struggle, thrashing around and trying to get out of their grasp, but one against six without a wand (That was in his discarded robe) didn’t seem promising. 

 

His sweater soon followed his robes, and he started to panic. His breathing was sporadic and he was scarily close to breaking down. Luckily, they didn’t pull off his shirt, but they  _ did _ rip the sleeve off of his arm.    
  
“There, now everyone knows  _ exactly _ what you are,” The Ravenclaw patted Draco on the cheek. 

 

One of the Gryffindors slammed him back into the wall, then the group started away, taking his robe and sweater with them. 

  
“Wasn’t this too far?” Draco heard one of them say and then the sound of his wand clattering against the floor. “What if we get caught?” 

  
“I’d do it again,” Threatened another. “He deserves it, and since Potter doesn’t seem to be doing anything,  _ we _ will. Like he said, we can fight, too.”

 

Draco crawled over to where they'd left his wand, feeling so…  _ Angry,  _ and hurt, it wasn't fair, he-he knew he'd done some awful things, but for Merlin's sake, he  _ had no choice!  _

 

Still, they were right. He'd almost cost them everything.  _ He'd  _ brought the Death-eaters into Hogwarts.  _ He'd  _ been the one who forced Snape into killing Dumbledore,  _ he'd  _ fought with Voldemort.

 

He stared down at the Dark Mark that was now on full display, and already bruising. He wasn't anything more that that. He was a shallow name given by his father, nothing more than a shadow, a glimpse of an ugly past. He had no place in a new world, he didn't know why he was even still alive. 

 

He forced himself up and followed the wall to the bathroom that was left empty, and walked over to the sink, throwing cold water over his face. Again, he stared at the Dark Mark. That's all he could ever be…

 

He looked up at the mirror. The face of his father. Without even thinking, he waved his wand at it and it shattered, pieces of the broken glass hitting him, but he didn't care. He just didn't care anymore. 

 

He let out a sob, but managed to push the rest of it down. Sitting on the floor in defeat, he pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his head in his arms. He just didn't want to be there anymore.

 

He started to drift off into sleep, and warred with himself as to whether he should go back to his room or not. But… He didn't want to see Potter, not like this. 

 

No matter that it was horribly pathetic, falling asleep on the bathroom floor. He didn't want to face what he was anymore. 

 

By the time he woke up, his head was still pounding, his bleeding had scabbed over, and he had calmed down enough to trust himself out in public. He stood, glaring at the mark on his arm, he had nothing to cover it, to hide the evidence of his past. No matter, he'd avoid Pansy, and he'd head straight to the shower and then dress before Harry would notice. Maybe Draco would be lucky and he'd even be asleep. 

 

\--

 

Harry was staring at the map, going just a little insane. 

 

Draco hadn't come back to their room after his 'studying at the library,' so Harry wanted to see where he was, and he'd gone into the bathroom. The bathroom where Harry had almost killed him. 

 

He was in there for hours, and Harry didn't know why or what to think, and he was already tense, because this Slytherin had cornered him in the hall and had demanded why he'd testified for Draco, but had let their mother go to Azkaban undefended. They were hurt and angry, and told him that their mom had died in Azkaban just two days earlier, and that she hadn't deserved it, and demanded just what Malfoy had done to deserve escape, and Harry didn't know what to say. 

 

And he was getting it from the Gryffindors, too. No matter what Harry did, someone was angry. 

 

Slytherins were mad that Draco was the only one who was allowed out, even though it wasn't true, Harry defended Narcissa, too. And all the others were mad that  _ any  _ of the Death-eaters were allowed out. 

 

Harry still remembered Narcissa's sobbing when she was on trial, and Draco's distant compliance.

 

But no, apparently that had been the wrong choice. Meanwhile, the Death-eater who spat at her judge and smirked through her entire trial was the one Harry had been supposed to defend? Sure. 

 

And, Harry hadn't been the one to give the Malfoys their sentences!

 

But… Draco had done a lot of things that Harry couldn't excuse.

 

He didn't know anymore, he hadn't slept in a while and thinking about all that had happened always left Harry in a bad place. 

 

He closed the map and hid it away. The more he thought about it, the worse he'd be. At least he'd try to sleep, he didn't need Malfoy for that.

 

He curled up in his blanket and screwed his eyes closed. 

 

...But it didn't do anything. After a few minutes, he sat back up, deciding to just go and find Malfoy. It was ridiculous that his life had come to this, always checking up on Malfoy to make sure he was okay. 

 

Maybe he just wanted to know he'd done the right thing by defending him and his mother. 

 

Harry started down the hall toward the bathroom where he'd last known where Malfoy was, too late thinking he should have brought the map.

 

It was dark, so he reached for his wand and was about to cast Lumos when his body suddenly combined with another wizard's. 

 

"Oh, Sorry," Harry muttered, rubbing his hand over his eyes. He should have brought his glasses. "I was- Hey, Malfoy?"

 

"Potter," Malfoy said lowly, trying to step past him, but Harry followed after him. 

 

"Why were you-" Harry managed to stop himself before asking why Malfoy had been in the bathroom since he didn't want the guy to know about the map. "Why didn't you come back?" Harry’s frustration grew at the familiarity of sixth year coming back. 

 

"I don't have to," Draco dismissed. "If I want to stay in the library-"

 

"You weren't  _ in  _ the library," Harry frowned, now sure Draco was trying to hide something.  

 

"Whatever," Draco growled. 

 

Harry looked him over, growing concerned now as he saw the shape Draco was in. "What happened?" He asked.

 

"Nothing," Draco dismissed. 

 

"Malfoy, you're-you're limping," Harry argued. "Your shirt's torn, you're bleeding, and bruised, what the hell happened?!"

 

"Bugger off," Draco huffed.

 

"Who the hell- Malfoy," Harry grabbed Draco’s arm, but felt guilty when Malfoy flinched. "Just tell me who did it." He let go. 

 

"I don't have to tell you," Malfoy said with narrowed eyes. "It's not your business, Potter."

 

"Yes it is, because we're friends now," Harry frowned. "And if my friends are in trouble, I want to help them."

 

"I'm perfectly fine without your help!" Draco hissed. 

 

"Again, you're  _ limping, _ you stupid asshole," Harry argued. "Why won't you tell me?" Suddenly a worse thought his Harry. "Are you- Malfoy, the  _ last thing  _ you need to be doing is going around picking fights!" Draco scoffed, shaking his head. "Was it a Slytherin girl? Short red hair?" 

 

"No," Draco muttered, then shook his head. "It  _ doesn't. Matter."  _ He started walking again, Harry following closely.

 

"Look, everyone's still really… Caught up," Harry tried. "Don't get angry, just let it go. You don't have to fight with all of them.  Just- ugh, everything's supposed to be over."

 

"It's  _ not  _ over though, Potter," Draco gritted his teeth. "It doesn't end, there's no bright and charming happily ever after."

 

"Just when I started to think you were actually starting to be a good person," Harry muttered, clenching his fists. He didn't want to  _ hear  _ that. It  _ was _ over. There  _ was  _ an ending. They were moving on. "You never really changed, did you?" He accused. "You're just trying to cushion your blow."

 

"You know what, Potter, you're a damn liar," Draco growled, pushing Harry back by the shoulders. 

 

Harry fumed at that, his face turning red with anger. He  _ wasn't _ a liar! He didn't even know where Malfoy came up with that, but no damn way was  _ Malfoy  _ of all people going to call  _ Harry  _ a liar! "That's rich coming from you, Malfoy!" He snapped. "You've never been honest a day in your life!"

 

"I don't care what you think, Potter," Draco huffed. 

 

"Well, good," Harry frowned, trying to calm himself down. "You know, a lot of good people died in that bloody war, you should think about the fact you're still standing there." 

 

"Don't lecture  _ me _ about that!" Draco snapped. "It's your fault I'm even still alive!" 

 

Harry was losing the argument. He almost felt like he was straining to find an insult, and as soon as something popped into his head, he went with it without giving it a second thought. "Yeah, and while I was busy saving your miserable arse, my friends, my  _ family _ was dying! Believe me, Malfoy, I’ve wondered a lot about that!" 

 

Draco pushed Harry again, picking up speed toward their room. "Well, if you find a time-turner, you won't hear any complaints from me about your using it!" He threw open their door, stepped into it, then slammed it closed. 

 

"Malfoy," Harry pulled on the door, but it wouldn't open. Shit, he went too far. "Malfoy, let me in!" 

 

On the other side of the door he heard Draco throwing things around. Figuring Malfoy wouldn't open the door, Harry pulled out his wand. "Alohomora," He cast the charm, finally opening the door. 

 

Draco looked worse in full light, but Harry didn't get to see him for long. "I was wondering when you'd remember you had a bloody wand," Draco glared as he slammed the bathroom door closed. 

 

"You little-"  Harry muttered. "Malfoy, come on!" He knocked on the bathroom door, not willing to force his way in there. "Just come bloody talk to me!"

 

"No!" Draco called from the other side, the shower turning on. 

 

"Malfoy!" Harry tried. "...Malfoy! Fine, but I'll be here when you come out!" He huffed, sitting on the ground with his back to the door. 

 

"Bugger off, Potter!" Draco huffed.

 

"Not until you come talk to me!" Harry crossed his arms. 

 

Draco didn't respond. 

 

Harry thought over the argument, knowing he'd gone too far, but it was Draco's fault in the first place. Sure, maybe Harry shouldn't have accused him of picking fights, but… Harry didn't want to be told there wasn't an ending to everything. There  _ had  _ to be. And anyway, Hermione and McGonagall were always saying that the worst was over, he was just letting Draco get to him. 

 

...But still, he said too much. Apparently, he had a bad habit of doing that. He wished he could take it back, he hadn't really meant it to sound like he regretted saving Draco. Draco had saved him, after all. Ugh, this was a conversation they needed to have with  _ each other.  _

 

Harry stood up, going over to his side of the room and looking around for something to keep him busy. 

 

He picked up his old, 'Quidditch; Through the Ages' book and started to reread it, but couldn't focus. Stupid Draco was all he could think about. Ugh, why did Harry start fighting with him as soon as he'd come back? Especially considering he'd already been in a fight with some unknown kid, and had  _ obviously  _ lost. And things were… Delicate. He didn't wanna fuck everything up.

 

Still, Draco had called Harry a liar, and said some awful things too, like… like… 

 

Ugh, this wasn't his fault, was it? 

 

Harry stood up, deciding to go bother Ron about it. After all, he and Neville wouldn't mind being woken up, and they could give Harry a better perspective. 

 

He walked down and knocked on their door, rocking on his feet. 

 

...Maybe he shouldn't have bothered them.

 

The door opened and Neville blinked, turning his head to the side. "Harry," He said groggily. "Are you alright?" 

 

"Yes, fine," Harry tried for a smile. "Where's Ron?" 

 

"Right," Neville nodded, stepping to the side. "Ron, it's Harry."

 

"Hey," Ron rubbed his eyes, sitting up in his bed. "What's wrong?"

 

"Um… Malfoy and I got in a fight," Harry started, feeling embarrassed at the way he'd phrased it.

 

"...Right," Ron patted the spot on his bed next to him. "Okay, let's um, let's talk then." 

 

"What'd Malfoy do to get you so upset?" Neville frowned in concern. "Is he back to his old self?" 

 

"No, nothing like that," Harry sighed, sitting next to Ron. "I don't even really know, we always do this, if we start to get along, something happens and we fight, but it's just different this time."

 

"Right, well, what happened?" Ron asked.

 

"He came back late tonight, and he's just- he got in a fight and he took a beating for it," Harry relayed. "Then  _ we  _ started fighting about it, and he called me a liar, even though I don't know what he thinks I even lied about. And um, I… Said some pretty awful things, but I was just mad, and now he won't talk to me." 

 

Ron sighed, looking down at his hands but then looked back up at Harry. "Things like that happen," He said carefully. "Not that they should, but… We all are kinda screwed up now. I mean, Hermione and I fight a lot, and it's stuff like that, but it's usually just when we're already mad about everything else. He's probably mad, Harry. Just… Try and apologize. But if he doesn't apologize too, make him. Just- it's not your fault, you know?" 

 

Harry groaned, putting his hand on his forehead. "Ugh, I know," He said. "...Tomorrow, though. I think I made things worse by pushing him."

 

"You can crash here, mate," Ron offered. 

 

"Thanks, Ron," Harry let out a breath. "Ugh, I don't know why I even suggested we shared a room in the first place."

 

"Me neither," Neville shook his head, smiling a little. 

 

"Or why you always watch him during meals to make sure he eats," Ron said with a smile as he laid back, leaving room for Harry. "Or why you dragged him down to the lake with us, or offered to take him flying." 

 

"Oh, shut up," Harry said, blushing. He didn't know why he felt caught in something, but… Ugh, everything about him and Draco felt weird and fragile, but worth it, and it kind of made Harry feel weird inside. All the more reason the fight was so distressing. 

 

All the more reason telling Draco that Harry should have let him die with Crabbe was so terrible.

 

He laid next to Ron, feeling comforted at least in his friend's company. It was silly, he knew, but Harry always felt safer and at home with Ron and Hermione. He didn't think anything would ever replace that. 


	7. Fight Then We Make Up

By the time Draco got out of the shower, he'd internalized what had happened, and his plan was to mutter an apology to Potter as he walked out, then head straight to see Madame Pomfrey so she could tend to his wounds. Once he was put together, he opened the door, but part one of his plan was lost when he saw an empty room. 

...So much for, 'we need to talk,' and 'I'll be here when you get out.' 

Draco sat on his bed, the phrase 'Believe me, Malfoy, I've wondered a lot about that,' repeating in his head. What else could it even mean? No, the message was pretty clear. Even Harry thought saving Draco was a mistake. 

Now, after everything that had happened the day before, Draco just wished he had died in the war. Sometimes he even wished he'd never been born. 

He could hear a million different voices, telling him all the reasons he should be dead. They were violent, shouting at him with shaking fists. 

And the loudest one was Harry Potter. 'You never really changed, did you?' 'You're just trying to cushion your blow.' 'Good people died and you're still standing there.' 'Believe me, I've wondered a lot about that!' 

Draco gasped, tears starting to spill out of his eyes. He needed to get a grip of himself. He told himself over and over again that things couldn't change.

Yet again, he'd let hope in and all it did was hurt him.

...Maybe he deserved that, too. 

He ran his sleeve over his eyes, forcing himself to stop crying. What if Harry came back? Ugh, yeah right. Draco still didn't know why he and Harry were made to share a room, everyone else got people in their own houses. Maybe fate just wanted to screw Draco even further. Maybe they just wanted to wave happiness in front of his face and laugh at his misfortune. 

Maybe McGonagall didn't trust Draco and wanted Harry around to make sure he didn't do anything. 

He stood up, straightening his tie. He wasn't just going to sit in that room, it smelled too much like Harry. 

He went to the library until morning, and as soon as she was up, went to see Madame Pomfrey. Then he went back to their room during breakfast when Harry was out, got his books and schoolwork, then went to find Pansy and just tell her that he couldn't be around Potter anymore. 

She may tell him that he was an idiot and she told him a thousand times that he should stay away from Harry, but she'd make sure he and Harry never talked again. 

...What if they never talked again?

He started to get choked up at that thought, so he swallowed it down. There wasn't anything to help, he knew it had been coming, he knew that falling in love with Harry Potter was the worst thing he could have done to himself. It had just been so easy… 

He saw Pansy and Theo and caught up to them easily. "Hey," He greeted. "Okay, long-"

"Draco!" Pansy turned around and hit his arm. "What the bloody hell happened, you dick?! Why'd you skip breakfast?!" 

"Because," Draco huffed. "Long story short, shit happened and basically, I'm avoiding Potter now."

"For how long?" Theo asked. 

"Indefinitely," Draco said. 

"Whoa, whoa, why?" Pansy frowned. "Draco, what happened? What did he say to you?!" 

"It was my fault," Draco told her. "But I just can't be around him anymore."

"Well, you're roommates, Draco," Theo winced. "I'm not sure it can be avoided."

"And skipping every meal and sleeping in some hallway isn't an option," Pansy said with narrowed eyes. 

"You could come stay with me," Theo offered. "You'll have to put up with Cram, though."

"Ugh, Irving Cram?" Draco faked a gag. "...Pans, do you think Bainbridge would mind my sleeping there?" 

Pansy grinned suddenly. "Bainbridge dropped out!" She hit his shoulder. "You're staying with me." 

"Only for tonight," Draco told her. "Because golden boy will be suspicious if I suddenly just leave, and if he runs to McGonagall, I might get expelled." 

"Fine, alright," Pansy frowned. "But even when you're there, hide behind a book, okay? And from now on, you can hide out in my room until curfew." 

"Um, boys aren't allowed in girl dorms," Theo told them.

"They don't have to know," Draco and Pansy said at the same time. Theo was many things, intelligent, ambitious, thorough, determined, powerful, but he was about as sly as the common Hufflepuff.

"Honestly Nott, you're such a goodie-goodie," Pansy shook her head with a fond smile. 

"Um, we need a code for Potter," Theo said, looking caught. 

"Why?" Pansy blinked. 

"Because Potter," Theo whispered. 

Draco glanced behind him and saw Potter hurrying over to them. "Shit," He muttered, turning back around to make it seem like he hadn't seen him. 

"Hey, Draco," Harry said, out of breath as he reached the three of them. "We need to-" 

"Oh, hey, Potter," Pansy smiled thinly.

"Hey," Harry said, awkwardly. "Um, we need to talk-" Harry started.

"No, we need to get to class," Pansy said, hurrying Draco and Theo out of the hall.

"Sorry, bye Potter!" Theo waved, following closely. "See? Codewords," He whispered. 

"How about, 'run for it?'" Draco suggested. 

"How about, 'tell me what happened or I'll torture it out of you?'" Pansy glared at Draco.

"Yeah, what did happen?" Theo asked.

"I told you, it was my fault," Draco dismissed. Really, he didn't want to talk about it. Not to Potter, not to anyone. 

"That's just something you say to get me to leave you alone," Pansy accused. "What happened, Draco?"

"I'll tell you after classes," Draco told her. 

"Fine," Pansy gave up. "During classes, Theo, you're on one side of Draco, I'm on the other. Potter will try to talk to him anyway, so we go in right before the class starts so that he'll never have time." 

"Right," Theo sighed. "Though can I suggest here that maybe he just talks to Potter?" 

"No," Pansy and Draco said at the same time again. 

Draco couldn't do well in classes that day. Harry was too distracting. He kept glancing back at Draco and chasing after them between every class, but by the time the last class hit, he seemed to have given up. Draco didn't know if he was relieved or hurt even more. 

He took Pansy to his room so that he could pack a quick bag and then the two went to hers. 

\--

"Mate, he'll come around," Ron tried, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder. "He's just being stubborn now." 

"I don't know," Harry frowned, a little hurt himself that Draco had spent the night with Parkinson, and Harry knew, because when Draco didn't come back at all the day before, Harry had decided to go after him, and checked the map, only to find out that he'd gone and stayed with Parkinson. Ugh, that was the smallest part of everything, why was Harry stuck on that?! 

"...Listen, I wasn't going to say anything, but um," Ron hesitated, looking reluctant. "Malfoy's got a… Soft spot for you." 

"A what?" Harry blinked. 

"All you gotta do is give him your big sad eyes and he's putty in your hands," Ron said, sitting next to Harry on his bed. "Trust me."

"Well, he doesn't let me talk to him, so how am I supposed to do that?" Harry huffed, crossing his arms. "And- That wouldn't work. I don't even know where you came up with that."

Ron snorted and shook his head. "Okay," He said. "But really, he'll come around. He's just-" 

The door opened, Draco stepping in. Harry jumped at the sudden interruption. "Oh, I didn't know you had guests," Draco smiled thinly, starting to pull the door closed. 

"No, I'm going," Ron said, standing up. "Don't worry, Malfoy." He practically pushed Draco in and then closed the door on his way out. 

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything too important," Draco said, crossing over to his bed and picking up an old book. 

"No, no, we were just talking," Harry said, then frowned at remembering something. "Probably nothing like you and Parkinson's night in," He muttered.

Draco coughed, eyes going wide and cheeks turning bright red. "What?" He asked dumbly. 

"Not like you two aren't even gross enough as it is," Harry mumbled. "Isn't she dating Nott, though? Did they break up, or do you just not care?" 

"This is ridiculous," Draco shook his head in disbelief. "I did not do anything with Pansy."

"Right," Harry frowned, feeling angrier having Draco lie to him about it, especially if Malfoy was going to accuse him of lying. 

Oh, right! 

"Hey, look, Malfoy, I-" 

"I don't want to talk about whatever you think Pansy and I did," Draco said shortly, pulling his book up to cover his face. 

"No, that's not what I'm talking about," Harry sighed. "I just wanted to say that I'm… Sorry." 

Draco tensed further. "For what?" He asked dryly.

"For saying what I did," Harry huffed. Like Draco didn't know. 

"You don't have to apologize," Draco said, still hidden by his book. "I shouldn't have called you a liar, or pushed you, so… I'm sorry." 

"Just- So you'll stop avoiding me?" Harry asked, feeling suddenly insecure. It's not like Malfoy even needed Harry. He had other friends, he had his mother, he had Parkinson, what would he need Harry for? 

"Don't flatter yourself, I'm not avoiding you," Draco scoffed. "I'm here, aren't I?" 

"Yeah, after a whole day of not talking to me," Harry frowned. 

"...Sorry," Draco said quietly. 

Harry bit his lip, feeling unsatisfied with how everything happened. Draco should be yelling at him, or accusing Harry of something. He hated whenever Draco just took things all apologetically, because it just wasn't Draco. "So you're not mad?" He prodded. "Because, I mean, I wasn't really-" 

"I'm not mad," Draco interrupted. "So let's just move on." 

"Fine," Harry frowned. "...But for the record, I don't regret it." 

"I kinda figured that, Potter," Draco said shortly. "Now can we drop-" 

"Saving you," Harry clarified. 

Draco didn't respond right away. He tightened his hold on the book and brought it closer to his face. Harry wished he could take the book away. 

"...Okay," Draco said slowly. 

"Hey, look at me," Harry tried, and was surprised when Draco lowered the book enough to see Harry. His eyes were watery, but he blinked and it was gone so fast, Harry wondered if he imagined it. But watering eyes or not, he looked conflicted. "...I mean it, Malfoy. I'm glad I pulled you out." Harry looked away. "And um, you saved me, too, remember? ...Sometimes I think there had to be a reason, you know? Something that we both just knew, like, we need each other for something and that's why we're always fighting, 'cause we weren't allowed to be friends." He looked back at Draco, who was staring at him as if he'd grown two heads, but at being caught, pulled his book back up. "What are you reading?" Harry changed the subject, feeling embarrassed at his rambling, like he'd said too much. 

"Um, a history book," Draco dismissed. 

Harry turned his head to the side, reading, 'Magical Candy-Making for the Enthusiast,' etched on the spine. He let out a laugh. "I didn't know you were into candy-making, Draco," He said teasingly.

Draco glared over the top of the book. "It's still historical," He said. 

"Okay, Malfoy," Harry rolled his eyes, finally feeling a sense of normalcy between the two of them. "No schoolwork to catch up on, then?" 

"I did it earlier," Draco dismissed. 

"With Parkinson?" Harry asked.

"What is your fixation on Pansy?" Draco huffed. 

"I don't know," Harry frowned. "I just figure, if we're going to be friends, I should know who you're dating." 

"Not Pansy," Draco muttered.

Harry felt hopeful for a second, though not knowing why, but caught on too fast to hold onto that hope. "Well, then who?" 

Draco groaned, hitting his head against his book. "I don't know why we're talking about this," He muttered. 

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "I just- I know who Hermione and Ron are seeing."

"Yeah, so does the whole school," Draco muttered. 

"Fine, whatever," Harry sighed. "Just so long as you don't avoid me anymore." 

"...I'm sorry," Draco said again, setting the book aside. "I was just… I hadn't been having a good day, and I know that's not an excuse, but-but I just started thinking about everything, and-and you're right that good people died, and- Snape, and Crabbe, he never had a chance, and I don't know why, it's not fair, why am I alive, when-when other people were so much more-" Draco gasped as he ran his hand over his eyes. "Ugh, forget it."

"...It's like, now, you see everything, and it's all wrong, and nothing happened the right way," Harry said quietly, sitting next to Draco. "And you hate having to think about it because it hurts every time. At least no one died in your name."

Draco stared at Harry with an almost reverent expression. Harry was used to receiving it, but not from Draco. "I-I wish…" 

"I know," Harry nodded. "I'm glad you're here, Draco."

Neither of them said anything, they just stared into each other's eyes for a moment. It filled Harry with a ridiculous and giddy hope, a hard pang of longing- he wasn't… No. 

Harry suddenly realized that he and Draco's lips were a mere inch apart, so he pulled away and stood up. Shit, shit, shit, he almost kissed Draco. 

He liked Draco. 

Draco hadn't pulled away. 

But now Draco was stuttering out an excuse and gathering up some books. "I-I'd forgotten, I need to get these back to the library, I-I'll just- hop out and- won't be long, see you tomorrow- not tomorrow, I'll be back, so- um, bye Potter!" 

"Wait, Draco, you don't have to- I wasn't going to- we weren't going to kiss or anything, you know, I don't- we would never- not, you know, never-" 

"'Kay, bye!" Draco snapped, pulling the door closed behind him.

Harry stared. Shoot, he screwed everything up. Did he really like Draco? Well, no matter if he did or didn’t, because Draco obviously didn’t like him, and Harry trying to kiss him would only make him think Harry was stupid and creepy or something. Ugh, god, what was he supposed to do? He’d just got Draco to stop avoiding him again. ...He was going to go see Ron again.


	8. A Simple Complication, Miscommunication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two sides of the same story. Harry and Draco are both of different beliefs and so starts the mutual pining. (Also, sorry I haven't updated in months. I've been dead. This chapter is kind of short, because I wanted to post it before I lost it.)

Draco stayed with Pansy that night, again. And it hurt, but at least he'd gotten his answer. 

 

Harry could never feel the same. He'd said as much.  _ "we weren't going to kiss or anything, you know, I don't- we would never- not, you know, never." _

 

Never. 

 

Pansy was angry, when Draco went back to her room with the embarrassing problem of tear-stained cheeks, but now he could put it behind him and move on. 

 

"Maybe you can find another pretty boy," Pansy offered at lunch the next day. 

 

"What happened with Harry?" Theodore frowned. "I thought you and him-" 

 

"Forget it, babe," Pansy told Draco. "He doesn't deserve you. How about… Goldstein?"

 

"He's pretty nice," Theo nodded. "We were friends in fourth year, before I dropped out, and we still talk sometimes. I could introduce you?" 

 

"No," Draco shook his head. He didn't really  _ want  _ to move on, he realized. Even before he and Harry were friends, he had been such an important part of Draco’s life. He could barely remember a time before his mind revolved around green eyes, wild black hair, and that stupidly brilliant smile. "I'm fine, really." 

 

He couldn't help but look over at Harry, who apparently had been staring at Draco. At getting caught, Draco had expected him to turn away or at least pretend he  _ hadn't  _ been staring, but Harry just smiled and waved. 

 

Draco looked away, still feeling hurt from the day before. It hadn't been a very nice way to reject someone, after all. 

 

...All things considered, Harry wasn't in the wrong there. Draco had been the one who'd even started the fight, then he was avoiding Harry because he felt hurt,  _ then  _ he got emotional, and after all that, when Harry looked into his eyes, Draco could have sworn that he'd started to lean in, so Draco did, too. 

 

But he'd been wrong, because Harry pulled away, Harry jumped up, Harry stuttered out a rejection that he should have never had to make in the first place. 

 

Because Draco had known for years that nothing could happen, but he'd indulged in fantasies and chased personal happiness. A mistake he consistently found himself making. 

 

"Okay, so not Goldstein," Pansy sighed, scanning over the Great Hall. "How about… Ooh, how about that guy?"

 

"That's Michael Corner," Theo shook his head. "He used to date Ginevra Weasley." 

 

"So what?" Pansy rolled her eyes. "Fine, maybe we find another Gryffindor, or a Ravenclaw. Yeah, I'll find you a pretty Ra-"

 

"Would you two just butt out!" Draco huffed, crossing his arms. He was confident his cheeks were bright red. Honestly, who'd want to be with  _ Draco Malfoy _ , after everything that had happened? Romance was nothing more than a sweet dream, but something he'd wake up from every time. 

 

"Fine, but you can't come crying to me every time Potter breaks your heart," Pansy muttered.

 

"You can come crying to me," Theo offered, patting Draco's shoulder. 

 

"You two are horrible," Draco grumbled, feeling his blush deepen.

 

\--

 

"Why is he mad?" Harry huffed. 

 

"Is he still angry about the fight?" Hermione asked, frowning in thought. 

 

Neville and Ron both shook their heads, making slashing motions across their throats. 

 

"I- he's mad because…" Harry glared over at Draco. "Because yesterday, he came back and we apologized and then…" He blushed, not sure he wanted to talk about what had happened. 

 

"...Then  _ what?" _ Hermione prodded.

 

"Well, we got like, super close," Harry admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "And then he got weird, and I don't know what he wants from me!"

 

"Harry, he-" Ron started, but then broke off and shook his head. "No, nope. I'm not playing matchmaker between you and Malfoy."

 

"Ronald!" Hermione hissed. 

 

"It's not like that!" Harry crossed his arms. "I mean…" 

 

"You like him now, right Harry?" Neville started quietly, having been there for the conversation the previous night when Harry had gone to Ron, freaking out about the realization. 

 

"You- huh?" Hermione blinked.

 

"So what if I do?" Harry said defensively. "Obviously Malfoy doesn't like me anyway, but I don't get why he's mad."

 

"Wait, Harry, you think  _ Malfoy _ doesn't like  _ you _ ?!" Hermione started incredulously. "Harry, you're- Malfoy has been- you realize that Malfoy practically follows you around like a puppy, and he stares at you like the sun, and-"

 

"Whoa whoa whoa," Harry interrupted, holding his hands up. "This is Malfoy we're talking about, he's not into me at all, you can't be serious!"

 

"Mate, he  _ blushes _ almost every time you look at him," Ron laughed, shaking his head. "He can't deny you anything. You asked him to fly with you and he couldn't even say no. It's obvious."

 

"I still can't believe it," Neville shook his head. 

 

"So why did he freak out after yesterday?" Harry demanded. 

 

"Maybe… Things were just moving too fast for him," Hermione suggested. 

 

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "He's got weird ancestral parents who teach him weird stuff, he's probably just as freaked out at everything as you are."

 

"Yes, don't worry about it," Hermione said gently. "If you really do like Malfoy, maybe just… Take it slow, and see if you really think it's a good fit or not."

 

"Maybe," Harry frowned. He didn't really  _ want  _ to take things slow. He felt like now that he knew he liked Malfoy, he just wanted to be with the other boy, and yeah, Hermione was right about almost everything, but she didn't get it, she didn't know Malfoy like Harry did, she didn't know what he was like, and she hadn't been there the night before. Draco had pretty much already rejected Harry. 

 

"It'll be fine, trust me," Ron promised before turning back to his lunch.


	9. Chapter 9

“Draco, draco!” Pansy called as Draco was making his way to his room. When he turned to look at her, she was motioning him over, arms linked with Anthony Goldstein. 

 

Draco sighed and walked over to them, feeling apprehensive. “Pansy,” He greeted. 

 

“Draco, this is Anthony Goldstein,” Pansy introduced. “Goldstein, Draco Malfoy.”  
  
“Yes, hello,” Goldstein said, holding out his hand awkwardly. 

 

“Hello,” Draco echoed, shaking the boy’s hand. 

 

“We were just going to the library,” Pansy told Draco with a grin. “You’re coming with us, right?”  
  
“I’m actually really busy,” Draco lied. “So not today, sorry.”   
  
“Oh, well it won't take long,” Pansy challenged. “Don’t mind Draco, he’s being a stubborn little _shit_ ,” She told Goldstein, who laughed a little, shaking his head.

 

“Oh, come on, Malfoy,” He tried. “Just a half-hour?” He gave Draco a wide, crooked smile. He almost looked like Harry when he did that, even if the rest of the time he was a lot less fun and kinda stiff and stony. Goldstein had always been rather handsome, but Draco was focused elsewhere. 

 

He supposed he had no reason to dismiss Goldstein so quickly anymore.

 

“Oh, alright,” Draco gave in with a sigh, acting as though he was being inconvenienced. 

 

“So Anthony,” Pansy’s grin turned into a sneaky, self-satisfied smile as they began to walk. Draco’s stubbornness alone told him to ruin her transparent plan of setting him up, but he chose to ignore it for the time. “You play Quidditch?”   
  
“Eh, not really,” Anthony shrugged. “I much more prefer to watch the games.” He turned to Draco. “You’re really good, you know.”   
  
“Oh, you’re a fan?” Draco smiled at that. Maybe this whole Goldstein thing could be fun. 

 

“Don’t get me wrong, I was always rooting for Ravenclaw,” Goldstein said, crossing his arms. 

 

“Well, then I suppose maybe I should apologize for how many times Slytherin’s beat them,” Draco shrugged, straightening his tie.   
  
“Oh, right,” Goldstein rolled his eyes. “You’re unbelievable.” His tone was teasing, but Draco still decided to reign himself in before he ruined anything before it could start. Maybe before everything happened, he could’ve been more like himself, but after everything… Perhaps himself wasn’t the best thing to be. 

 

Shame, that conversation felt more normal than things had since fifth year.   
  


“Well, alright Goldstein,” Draco looked down at the floor as they continued on to the library. “I’ll admit Ravenclaw isn’t a bad team, by any means.” 

 

“Yeah, but Slytherin can play them off the field every time,” Pansy interrupted. “We had the best beater, _and_ the second best keeper-”   
  
“ _Second_ best!?” Draco turned to her fully.   
  
“Oh Draco, come _on_ ,” Pansy rolled her eyes. “You were absolutely the second best.”   
  
“Yeah, I hate to agree,” Goldstein interjected. “I think Harry Potter is probably the best.” 

 

Draco quickly told himself to move on. “You’re as bad as she is,” Draco told Goldstein, crossing his arms.

 

“Sorry, Malfoy,” Goldstein shrugged with a smile that was absolutely not apologetic. “I’m sure it’s a compliment to be the second best.” 

 

“Oh, _okay_ ,” Draco shook his head, walking after Pansy as she trailed into the library.   
  
“So what book were you looking for again, Pansy?” Goldstein asked.   
  
“Oh, don’t worry yourself about it,” Pansy dismissed. “I’ll go ahead and find it, you two stay here.” Without another word, she turned and disappeared among the many bookshelves. 

 

“But I thought-” Goldstein called after her, but then sighed. “I’m starting to think her asking me to help her find some rare book was a rouse.” 

 

“Oh, real sharp, Ravenclaw,” Draco snorted. 

 

“This is um… Ha,” Goldstein rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I should let you know now, I’m-”  
  
“Draco!” Harry called, leaving Granger and Weasley at a table full of books in favor of interrupting Draco and Anthony. “Hey, what are you doing here?”   
  
“Nothing,” Goldstein hurried to say, waving his hands in front of him. “Pansy brought us here, I think she, um... yeah.”   
  
“You’re friends?” Harry blinked, looking at Goldstein as if he hadn’t even seen him there at first. “Oh, I kind of thought Draco didn’t have any friends.”   
  


_Great._ Draco felt his cheeks darken in embarrassment. “Nice, Potter,” He frowned.   
  
“Other than Pansy, and me,” Harry amended. 

 

“Well, we’re not really friends,” Goldstein said, giving Harry a weird look. “Pansy and Theodore are close-”  
  
“Dating,” Draco corrected on instinct.   
  
“-And well, I’d been telling Theodore how I was looking for um, someone,” Goldstein stumbled through. “So I think Pansy wanted to be nice and set us up.”   
  
“ _Set you up_ .” Harry repeated, and yeah, having Goldstein just out and _say_ it, - especially to Harry - made the whole thing even more uncomfortable, but now Harry looked upset, why was he upset? “That sounds _fun_ ,” He said sarcastically, crossing his arms. “So what-why are you even trying to date _Malfoy?_ ” He scowled at Goldstein. “Or are you just that desperate?”

 

Desperate? What the fuck!?   
  
“Bugger off, Potter!” Draco huffed. “Neither of us even asked for your opinion!”   
  
“Well, I’m just saying,” Harry defended, shrugging his shoulders stiffly. “It doesn’t make any sense why he’d want to date you, you’re obviously not really _his type_ .”   
  
“What do you know about his type!?” Draco growled, turning away from the both of them and started pretending to look at the books on the shelf. 

 

“Well, I’m sure his type isn’t sulky, spoiled brats who sit in their rooms all day!” Harry argued. 

 

“Heh, look I…” Goldstein bit his lip, looking between the two of them. “Pansy just said she wanted help finding a book, I didn’t really even think this was a date at first.”  
  
“See? He didn’t even _want_ to date you!” Harry motioned to Goldstein.   
  
“Oh, yes _thank you_ , Potter!” Draco growled. “ _Thank you_ for protecting him from me, really!”   
  
“I’m not trying to _protect_ him, I’m just saying!” Harry huffed. “Don’t you have anything better to do, Goldstein? Can’t you find literally _anyone_ else?”   
  
_Merlin sake!_

 

“Look, there’s no reason to get jealous,” Goldstein said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Neither of us thought it was anything serious.”

 

“I’m _not_ jealous!” Harry hissed. “And if you didn’t think this was serious, why did you even come?!”   
  
“What the hell is your problem!?” Draco demanded. 

 

“ _Nothing!”_ Harry protested. “I only came up because it was nice to see you out and about for once, but- I didn’t expect you’d be on a date.”   
  
“It’s not really a date,” Goldstein tried.   
  
“So we really wouldn’t want to waste any more of your time,” Harry said with a thin smile. 

 

“Okay, um…” Goldstein rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll see you later then, Draco.”  
  
“I’ll see you around, Anthony,” Draco smiled at him, waving. 

 

“Geeze, Malfoy,” Harry grumbled. “Get a room.”  
  
Goldstein waved at Draco, giving one more weird look to Harry before walking away.

 

“Why the hell did you do that!?” Draco hissed, turning to Harry.

 

“Why were _you_ even on a date with some stupid Ravenclaw?” Harry grumbled. 

 

“He _told_ you, _Pansy_ set us up!” Draco argued. “I don’t know why you’d even care, honestly.”   
  
“Because, he was obviously not right for you,” Harry frowned. “He doesn’t even know you.”   
  
“Yeah, well your little comments probably didn’t help anything!” Draco crossed his arms, turning away from Harry and holding his head higher.

 

“Oh, you didn’t like those?” Harry smirked. “Sorry I screwed up your _hot date_ , Malfoy.”   
  
“It wasn’t- _Merlin_ , Potter, it wasn’t even a date!” Draco growled. “And after all that, he’ll probably never even _want_ to date me.”   
  
“What, and that _upsets_ you?” Harry asked with narrowed eyes, the same suspicious look that Draco hadn’t seen since the beginning of the year.   
  
“Actually asshole, _yes_ ,” Draco said, even though he wasn’t sure he ever really liked Goldstein that much in the first place. 

 

“Well- well whatever," Harry's upset frown deepened. "He was probably a jerk anyway, and again, he doesn't even _know_ you!"

 

"Harry, people _do_ generally start to get to know each other like that, you know," Draco scoffed.

 

"Whatever, you wanna date the stupid head? Fine!"

 

"Fine!" 

 

"Fine!" Harry snapped. "Just don't bring him to our room!" 

 

"Ugh!" Draco stomped away, deciding to find Pansy. Why was Potter being so infuriating?!

 

\--

 

Harry watched Draco storm away before turning back to Ron and Hermione. He told them, Draco _didn't_ like him, but he'd gotten his hopes up, just like all the other times before. He walked back to their table, sitting down. "Hey," He breathed.

 

"Harry," Hermione smiled. "How did it go?"

 

"You're going slow, right?" Ron checked. 

 

"Yeah, well I think going slow is kinda working," Harry frowned, propping his elbows on the table and leaning his chin on his hands. "In the sense that I don't think anything's going to happen for a while." 

 

"What do you mean?" Hermione frowned in thought. 

 

"I _mean,_ he was on a date with some stuffed shirt Ravenclaw," Harry told them.

 

"Date?!" Ron sat up straight, leaning forward. "He was on a date with some Ravenclaw?" 

 

"Yeah, they said Pansy set them up," Harry grumbled. 

 

"Oh, that's all?" Hermione huffed. "Maybe lead with that next time, Harry."

 

"What do you mean?" Harry blinked.

 

"Mate, that doesn't mean anything," Ron reassured. "If it was Pansy who'd set them up, she probably just didn't want you and him to start dating." 

 

"Actually, he's right," Hermione nodded. "This could actually be a good sign, thinking about it." 

 

"Well, maybe it _would've_ been," Harry sighed, only then thinking over everything he'd said. "I was kinda an asshole after everything…"

 

"What do you mean?" Ron frowned.

 

"Well, Malfoy and I started fighting," Harry told them. "Then I told him to date the stupid guy, and he got mad and left."

 

"Okay, well…" Ron sighed, looking to Hermione, who shrugged. "Maybe just apologize?" 

 

"Maybe bring him something from the kitchens," Hermione suggested. "Something sweet."

 

"Guys, I really don't think he likes me back," Harry frowned. "Maybe this whole thing was just a stupid idea. I mean, it's _Malfoy_."

 

"So… what?" Ron raised his eyebrows. "You _don't_ like him?"

 

"I don't know," Harry sighed. "I like him, but things have always been complicated. Maybe it'd just be better to… I don't know, maybe I should just get over it."

 

Hermione and Ron exchanged a glance, Hermione putting her hand on Harry’s arm. "Listen Harry, things will always be hard, but if you _really_ like him, isn't it worth it?" 

 

"Well, but if he doesn't like _me_ -"

 

"Mate, I'd bet a whole sickle that he does," Ron interrupted seriously. "Honest. Even _Neville_ thinks it." 

 

"Well, he doesn’t act like it,” Harry frowned, and the only response he got was an eye-roll from Ron, and Hermione scoffing and shaking her head. 

 

“Potter!” Pansy Parkinson’s familiar voice snapped as she approached their table and sat next to Ron. “Can you please maybe explain to me what the _hell_ you just did?”

 

“Screw off, Parkinson,” Ron huffed. 

 

“Look, I’m not _mad_ ,” Parkinson said, taking a deep breath. “But listen, I’m the one who has to hear all this stuff from Draco, so maybe you can tell me what you were thinking, because he’s really upset, and I just have to try and fix things, because his _parents_ aren’t- Ugh, forget it, but let’s _talk_ about it.”   
  
She was kidding, right? Harry wasn’t about to talk to _Pansy Parkinson_ about being jealous over Draco. “There’s nothing to talk about,” Harry told her with narrowed eyes. “And if Draco’s so upset, he should come talk to me himself instead of sending you.”   
  
“He _didn’t_ send me,” Pansy shook her head. “He doesn’t even know I’m here, he went back to his room to sulk, I think, and really Potter, you think Draco’s solution to problems is to talk through them? Merlin, and you pretend you actually know him well at all.”   
  


“I _do_ know him!” Harry snapped, crossing his arms. “We’re friends!”   
  
“Then why the hell can’t you just let him live his goddamn life!?” Pansy huffed. “What was wrong with him seeing Goldstein?!”   
  
“Nothing, I don’t know!” Harry denied, putting his hands up. “I don’t know why you’re setting Malfoy up anyway, he doesn’t need a boyfriend, and what, he’s going to start spending all his time with _Goldstein?_ Yeah, _that_ sounds like a fun time.”   
  
“Potter, he and Draco are actually a lot alike,” Parkinson tried. “Goldstein is one of the only people in this stupid school that doesn’t practically _spit on Draco_ every time he walks by, and you didn’t know Draco before everything happened, okay?! The fact that all he ever does is sit in his room is a _very_ bad sign, and I’m trying to help him, but every time I think he’s getting better, _you_ say some stupid shit about wishing he would’ve died in the war!”   
  
“I-I didn’t mean to _say_ that,” Harry bit his lip. “I apologized, we made up!”   
  
“Yeah, but _then_ he still ended up knocking at my door in the middle of the night all upset because of something _else_ you did,” Pansy accused, but that didn’t even make sense. Harry looked to Ron and Hermione, maybe they’d fill him in on what he did to make Draco upset. Unless he was _mad_ that Harry had tried to kiss him. Shoot, was that why he was avoiding Harry the last two days, and why he was going on dates?

 

“Wait, why-why was Draco upset?” Hermione spoke up, picking up on Harry’s signals.   
  
Pansy blinked, seeming to calm down enough to look confused. “Didn’t Potter tell you what happened?”   
  
“Happened when? With what?” Ron asked. 

 

“Is he mad because of that whole… Kind of, almost kiss?” Harry chanced, rubbing the back of his neck. “I swear, I wasn’t trying to kiss him! It’s just- he was staring at me, and we were close, and I just- God, I don’t know.” Pansy was staring at him with a dumbfounded look on her face, still not responding. 

  
“Harry, don’t be silly,” Hermione sighed. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” She turned to Pansy. “Maybe you can try and speak in a way we understand. What happened?”

  
“He didn’t tell me you tried to kiss him,” Pansy whispered, starting to smile. “Merlin, you tried to kiss him? When!? Two days ago? After you guys talked about the fight, you tried to- what!?”   
  
“Well, if you didn’t know, then what _did_ Draco tell you?” Hermione crossed her arms.   
  
“Oh, um… Don’t worry about it,” Pansy waved her hand in dismissal. “So this little episode today was, what, jealousy?” 

 

“No!” Harry huffed. 

 

“Merlin’s beard, you _are_ jealous!” Pansy clapped her hands together. “Oh, this is- this is just wild, you like Draco!” 

 

“Fine, maybe I was a _little_ jealous, but whatever,” He grumbled. “Jealous or not, Goldstein is a horrible choice for Draco, like _he_ would be any good for him.”   
  
“I don’t know what this has to do with you, honestly, Parkinson,” Ron frowned at the girl, who ignored him.   
  
“Look, Draco’s an idiot,” Pansy told Harry, reaching across the table to grab his hand. “He didn’t really think ‘jealous’ about what happened with Goldstein, okay?”   
  
“So-so Draco _doesn’t_ know I- I mean um, he doesn’t think I like him?” Harry checked, pulling his hand away from Pansy. 

 

“No, no he doesn’t know,” Pansy shook her head with a smile. “This is the best thing I’ve heard all day- all _year_ , actually. I’m so glad I got to hear about all this before we graduated, this is just rich!”   
  
“Don’t tell him!” Harry said. “I don’t want him to get all weird, okay? I’ll-I’ll apologize for today, but don’t tell him, please?”   
  
“You can’t tell me things like this and ask me not to tell Draco!” Pansy protested. “I almost want to send my patronus right now-”   
  
“No, please!” Harry groaned. “I know you two are close, but it’s my problem anyway, he shouldn’t have to deal with it.”   
  
Pansy stared again, then nodded. “Fine,” She gave in with a sigh. “It’s the eyes, the puppy dog eyes. No wonder Draco can never say no to you, Merlin. But this means you have to be my friend now, Potter. Anyone trying to date Draco has to go through me.”   
  
“Isn’t that _his_ choice?” Hermione quirked an eyebrow. 

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Pansy said dismissively. "He doesn't listen to me anyway, but I'll always be around." She winked at Harry. "You'll be seeing a lot of me, you know. You should come to Hogsmeade with Theo and me next weekend."

 

"That- no, that doesn't sound fun," Harry shook his head.

 

"Boo," Pansy pouted. "Fine, and for the record, I'm not mad anymore, but Draco might be." 

 

"Oh, great," Harry groaned, standing up. "Maybe I'd better go and talk to him."

 

"Just tell him you were jealous," Pansy suggested. "Tell him you like him."

 

"You don't have to, Harry," Hermione frowned. "Parkinson, maybe you'll agree it's better to let them handle things on their own? At their own speed?" 

 

"You don't know Draco," Pansy shook her head. "He can't handle _anything_ on his own, ask Harry, it's ridiculous."

 

"I'm not gonna- we're not friends," Harry shook his head. He didn't understand why Parkinson was trying to be his friend all the sudden. "I'm not gonna talk bad about Draco with you."

 

"Oh, come on," Pansy rolled her eyes. "Just because you like him now doesn't mean you can't rib him a little bit."

 

Ron let out a little bit of a chuckle. "Glad _you_ agree, Parkinson. Ever since they started rooming together, we haven't been able to say anything against him." 

 

"I mean, it's _Draco_ ," Pansy motioned to Ron. "Listen Potter, you'll end up having more fun with this whole thing if you ease up, okay? Trust me."

 

"You're horrible," Harry frowned. "No wonder Draco never wants to leave our room, if he has to put up with you."

 

"Oh, okay," Pansy scoffed. "Alright then, St. Potter, go be valiant and cheer up your boyfriend." 

 

"He's not my boyfriend!" Harry huffed, feeling a little upset that Ron seemed to be okay with teaming up with Parkinson. "And you have to _promise_ me you won't tell him." 

 

"Alright, Merlin, I won't tell him," Pansy rolled her eyes again. "But I'm going on record and saying that things would be a whole lot better if people stopped swearing me to secrecy. Oh, _and_ that this would be better for everyone if you just told him already."

 

"Harry, don't listen to her," Hermione spoke up. "There's no reason to make rushed decisions."

 

“Oh, come on,” Pansy sighed. “Alright, you know what? Fine. I’m washing my hands of this whole thing. Do what you want, Potter, ask him out, don’t ask him out, _whatever_ . My whole point is just stop being a jerk to him all the time?”   
  
“Oh, and all the years where Malfoy acted like an ass meant nothing?” Ron frowned. “Where was this attitude then?”

 

“Uh, not that I’d expect you to know, because you weren’t there,” Pansy started, sounding slightly offended. “But I _did_ tell Draco to leave Harry alone, multiple times.”

 

“Okay, well it’s all in the past,” Hermione said, putting her hand on Ron’s shoulder, though looking a little upset herself. “Let’s not argue over it. After all, it only really involves Harry and Draco, and they seem content to leave it in the past.”   
  
“Fine,” Ron agreed with a grumble. 

 

“Okay, alright,” Pansy huffed. “Now, you were going to apologize, right Potter?”   
  


“Oh, yeah…” Harry ran his hand through his hair. He kind of got distracted and forgot. “Well, I’ll see you guys at dinner, then,” He told Ron and Hermione. “And I guess I’ll see you around?” He waved to Parkinson before starting toward his room. How was he supposed to apologize for how he acted while he was jealous, without admitting that he was jealous?


	10. Super Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is - short - and - late - but it's here now!

Draco pulled the last of his shirts out of his closet and laid it on the bed. It was the one that the other kids had torn the sleeve off of. Fun memories.    
  
The door opened, Potter walking in. When he saw Draco’s bed covered in clothes, he frowned in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing together. “What are you doing?” He asked.

  
Draco decided to ignore him, gathering his empty hangers and throwing them on the bed so he could start going through his robes that were still hanging in his closet. 

 

“Are you packing?” Harry questioned, reaching down and picking up the torn shirt. “What happened to this, anyway?” Draco huffed, smoothing down his hair. “Are you just going to ignore me again?” Harry pouted. “Malfoy...  _ Malfoy _ . Fine, I guess I’m just going to have to be really annoying until you talk to me.” He pulled the torn shirt off the hanger, dropping it on the floor and adding the empty hanger to the pile with the others. When Draco didn’t say anything, Harry reached for the next shirt, doing the same thing.

 

“What are you doing!?” Draco snapped, feeling even angrier when Harry grinned at him. Damn it, how did Potter  _ always _ manage to beat him at everything!? “You’re so impossible!”

 

“Haha,” Harry gloated. “I got you to stop ignoring me!”    
  
“By throwing my things on the-” Draco stopped himself from protesting further, shaking his head and retreating back into his closet to continue going through his robes. 

 

“...Malfoy,” Harry said again, following Draco into the closet and- No,  _ way _ too close. Draco stepped back, but he hit the wall. Nothing about this situation was good. “Er, come on, just- come sit down, please?” 

 

Draco glared for a second, holding onto his anger even though he knew he would give in. Potter’s eyes were impossible to resist. 

 

“Fine!” Draco snapped, forcing himself to stay mad for as long as possible as he followed Harry out back into their room. 

 

Harry sat on the edge of Draco’s bed, staring at his hands.   
  
Draco sat next to him and crossed his arms, waiting for Harry to say something, but he remained quiet.

 

After a few seconds of tense silence, Draco snapped. “I don’t get it, Potter!” He hissed. “You’re so back and forth, all the time!” Harry looked startled, snapping his head up to look at Draco. “I mean, one day you’re-you’re holding my hand, and asking me to go flying with you, then you’re accusing me of picking fights, and-and using you, telling me you wish you never-” Harry winced, so Draco didn’t finish the thought. “And then you’re apologizing, and telling me we’re connected or some shit,  _ then _ you start insulting me and acting like you hate me again!”    
  
“I don’t-” Harry started talking, but now that Draco had started to spill over the edge, he wasn’t ready to stop and listen yet.    
  
“If you’re trying to tell me something, I’m not getting it!” He interrupted as he stood and began to pace. “I mean, half the time I feel like you don’t even want me to be here, but then you turn around and tell me to eat more, or-or that you love it when I  _ laugh! _ ” Draco scoffed, running his hand through his hair. “Is this some sort of revenge plan, are you just doing this to get back at me for all the things I did when we were younger?! If so, it’s working!” 

 

Harry stood up as well, grabbing Draco’s arm. “Malfoy! Just shut  _ up _ for ten seconds, I’m trying to tell you that I’m sorry!” 

 

“Yeah, okay, you’re sorry,” Draco said angrily, pulling his arm away. “Let’s be friends for two days until something else happens and you get mad at me again!” He sat back down, feeling his eyes start to sting. Merlin, he had to get a  _ grip _ . “I don’t even know what I  _ do _ half the time to make you so angry."   
  
Harry looked a little guilty and embarrassed. "I don't know either," He admitted. "I guess I just… I don't know, it's like things are always complicated… I don't think I get mad  _ at you _ , though. Not anymore." 

 

"Well then it's not fair to take it out on me," Draco frowned. "We're supposed to be friends, Potter, you can't keep treating me like that and expecting an apology will make up for it."

 

Harry nodded, pushing his hair out of his face - though it fell right back to where it had been - and looked down at the floor. "I understand," He said. "And if you don't want to be friends anymore, I understand that, too." 

 

"I  _ do  _ want to be friends, Harry," Draco promised, using his first name to try and prove his point. "But you keep going back and forth, and I don’t know what you want from me."

 

Harry looked at Draco with an honest expression, then gave him a gentle smile. "I'm sorry, Draco," he said. "I really am, and I promise I'll try to be better, but I'm really glad you got mad at me." 

 

"What?" Draco asked quietly. With Harry looking at him like that, things were too vulnerable, it made Draco feel like he was going to burst, or Harry would see too much of him and hate him again, but… But he didn't  _ look _ like he hated Draco. 

 

"That came out wrong," Harry winced. "I only meant that you haven't been much like yourself lately. Not to say that I haven't liked getting to know you, but ever since your trial…" His expression darkened. "You were never the kind of person to just take things, but lately it's like you don't even care, it just feels… wrong." 

 

Draco took in a shallow breath. The memory of his trial was a rather bad one. He had worse, of course. The day he went home after his father was sent to Azkaban for the first time and found his home filled with known murderers like his aunt, the full moon where he'd spent the whole night hiding in his closet clutching his wand because Fenrir Greyback was wandering around the Manor, meeting You-Know-Who, being 'chosen' for his 'mission,' the time in sixth year when Harry had cursed him and left all those scars, watching Snape kill Dumbledore, letting the Death-eaters into Hogwarts, the fear of being discovered when he lied about knowing Potter, Granger's screams as aunt Bella cut into her skin, or the fire where Crabbe died, or the battle… But when the time came for his trial, he remembered feeling complacent, almost distant, removed. Whatever happened, he'd already done so many things he could never be free from. He had taken the mark, after all, and had aided You-Know-Who, how could he go back to the way things had been? He had been ready to go to Azkaban. He'd failed. He had failed his duty of bettering the wizard world, though, he really didn't believe it had all that much to do with killing muggles. He'd failed his friends. He'd failed his family. His family, that had told him all his life how special he was, how the Malfoys and the Blacks were all so important, and everyone should respect them. Well, that day, when he was walked in front of the ministry to answer for the crimes he'd certainly committed, he didn't feel like his ancestors were all that deserving of respect. He wasn't special, he  _ didn't  _ deserve to be respected. He deserved to go to Azkaban, and he had been ready to. He deserved to die. He deserved to be hated.

 

Then Harry Potter had stood and spoken in his defense. He didn't know what was worse. 

 

"I thought I wasn't supposed to pick fights," Draco quirked his eyebrow, trying for a smile, but it didn't quite work. 

 

"You're not," Harry shook his head. "But you can stand up for yourself every now and then, and I'm just glad to see you do it." 

 

Draco wasn't really sure what he was supposed to do about Harry telling him to stand up for himself. This was that back and forth thing Draco had been talking about in the first place. 

 

“Then, for the record, I’m  _ not _ a spoiled sulky brat," Draco crossed his arms.   
  
"You have a tendency to act like one," Harry said with a teasing grin, then bumped his shoulder against Draco’s. "I'm only joking, you don't have to pout like that." 

 

"I'll pout however I want to," Draco stuck his  tongue out instead. 

 

Potter stuck his tongue out as well, laughing when Draco pushed his arm. "You're impossible," he said, and Draco pretended in the comfort of his own mind that he said it fondly. If he hadn’t spent so much time mastering the art of never telling Potter what he was thinking, he was sure he would have confessed his love right then.

 

“It’s a special talent of mine,” Draco said instead.

 

Harry smiled at him, giving him the same, unsettlingly gentle gaze he had before. Draco couldn’t stand it, how was there any contrived way Harry could be sat next to Draco on his bed, looking at him like  _ that? _ He looked away, smoothing his hand over his hair. 

  
“...So um,” Harry looked back at Draco’s clothes laid out over his bed. “Are you packing or something? Holiday isn’t for a while, you know.” 

 

“No, I thought I’d reorganize,” Draco sighed, looking back as well.    
  
“Why?” Harry blinked.    
  
“Well, I don’t know,” Draco frowned. “I was just angry.”

 

“...So you were cleaning out your closet?” Harry asked, tilting his head to the side and furrowing his eyebrows together again. He was so damn expressive, Draco didn’t know if he could stand it. “That’s amazing.”

 

“I haven’t done it in a while,” Draco defended, standing up. He lightly pushed Harry off of his bed, starting to smooth out the wrinkles on the clothes he’d been sitting on. 

 

“Here,” Harry leaned down and picked up the shirts he’d thrown on the floor, frowning at the torn sleeve. “You never  _ did _ tell me what happened that night.”

 

“Do you have to know?” Draco frowned again, just a touch upset that the perfect moment had been ruined. 

 

“Well, I guess not,” Harry pursed his lips. “I just… I thought a lot about it, and I never hear about  _ fights, _ except, I guess, Madame Pomfrey tells McGonagall that you get in fights, but-”   
  
“ _ What?!”  _ Draco interrupted. “Oh, Merlin sake, McGonagall’s going to expel me! I know she already hates me, but now this?” He fell backward onto his bed, covering his face with his arms. 

 

“Hey, shut up, she doesn’t hate you,” Harry said quickly, like he was trying to convince Draco for some reason. “Anyway, if she thought you were fighting all the time, she’d have done something about it! But… If you’re getting in fights, wouldn’t some of the others know? Or at least look as bad as you sometimes?”

 

“Oh, hah, thanks Potter,” Draco scoffed, reverting back to nitpicking Harry to try and shift attention away from the problem. “I love hearing about how bad I always look.”  
  
“God, you’re the worst,” Harry huffed. “You _know_ what I meant, you stupid jerk, can’t you just stop pretending for a minute!? If you don’t want to talk about it, fine, but I’m not as stupid as you think I am, I _know_ you’re trying to fight with me, and I _know_ you’re just letting people think you’re getting in fights all the time, but I just don’t know _why!_ How does it help you!?”  
  


Definitely feeling caught, Draco snorted incredulously and turned away. “We were fine a minute ago,” He reminded. “Can’t we get through ten minutes without fighting?”

 

“You were the one picking fights,” Harry pointed out with a huff. “I won’t make you talk about it, but please just stop trying to  _ manipulate _ me all the time!” 

 

“...Sorry,” Draco said, figuring Potter was probably right. He had a tendency to lie, or hide behind things he shouldn’t. “They uh… They stopped me, in the corridor when I was walking back from the library.” He forced a shrug that he hoped would look casual. “They tore the sleeve off my shirt to show…” He held out his covered arm, but immediately pulled it back, wrapping both of his arms around his stomach. Honesty made him feel sick. Vulnerable, prone, lacking, exposed, and sick.

  
He just hoped it didn’t show. 

 

“Damn, Malfoy,” Harry said, blowing out a breath. “...When I was just a kid, my cousin, he had these friends.” He scrunched his face together, cheeks darkening. “They were all just the worst. They used to chase me around school and beat me up. I thought running away would solve everything, but it just made them chase me more.”

 

And Draco used to laugh in his face about not going home for the Holidays. “Potter, I’m sorry,” He said quietly.

 

“I don’t want your pity,” Harry said defensively. “I’m  _ fine _ with what happened now. Not that it was  _ right _ or anything, or that I need or want to forgive them, because I don’t, but I’m just saying, I get it, I know what it’s like.”

 

“But Harry, you were just a kid,” Draco shook his head. “You didn’t deserve that.”   
  
“Yeah, that’s almost my  _ point _ , Malfoy,” Harry huffed, looking about as uncomfortable as Draco had felt, talking about what had happened. “I know now that I didn’t deserve it, but it’s not that different. I just meant that you can’t keep trying to avoid people in the corridor and hide in our room all the time, because it only makes them chase you more. You have to learn to fight back.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “That’s kinda why it was so nice to have you yell at me again.”   
  


Draco laughed, though he really didn’t feel like laughing. He still felt more like he was going to throw up. “Well thanks, Potter. That’s sweet of you to say. But um, listen, even Pansy doesn’t know about what happened. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”   
  
“Only if you  _ promise _ you’ll start fighting back,” Harry said seriously.    
  
“Fine, I promise,” Draco said, even if he had been pretty sure he wouldn’t follow through. 

 

“Good!” Harry smiled. “Oh, and Malfoy? As tattoos go, I’ve seen worse.”   
  
Draco glanced down at his sleeve, then back up at Harry, blinking. “What do you mean?”

 

Harry pushed his bangs up, showing his scar on his forehead. “Death mark?”   
  
“Yeah Potter,  _ death mark _ ,” Draco pushed his sleeve up.

 

“Well, then…” Potter hesitated for a moment, then smiled and shrugged. “We’re a matching set.” 

 

Draco couldn’t help it, he started laughing,  _ honestly  _ laughing. It immediately relieved whatever tension was left between the two of them. “You’re perfect,” He said in between laughs. Harry’s eyes sparkled. 

 

Harry laid next to Draco, staring up at the ceiling. His face was so prettily flushed. Draco used to try as hard as he could to make Harry so mad that his cheeks would turn red, but now… It wasn’t because Harry was angry. “Geez, Malfoy,” He said quietly. “You’re as back and forth as I am, you know.”

 

“Am I?” Draco quirked an eyebrow, staring at Harry and trying to memorize the moment.    
  
“Mm hmm,” Harry said, shifting so that his head was propped up on his arm. He still wasn’t looking at Draco, but Draco had never felt more seen. “I don’t know why. Hell, I don’t even know why  _ I _ am, but… I like it when we’re like this.”    
  
“...Me, too,” Draco admitted. “I’m glad we’re friends, Harry.”   
  
“Yeah,” Harry sighed, only then looking down at Draco, though he immediately looked up at the ceiling. “Friends.” 

  
_ Just friends _ , Draco told himself, feeling only slightly disappointed. At least he was that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone has a request as to maybe what they'd like to see this turn into? I've had a couple ideas, but I'm also... *writers block* lol so...


End file.
